Control

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Writing from the point of view of someone with a disability that leaves them restricted to a wheelchair, but cannot speak. This person is deeply in love with someone who shares their view, though the disabled person feels something is going wrong.

Submitted: November 09, 2015

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Submitted: November 09, 2015

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I am but a shadow of myself, a fragment of who I should be.

 

My body forbids me from doing the things which I most desire, to bend down and feel the cold waters of the ocean against my skin. To swim in those same waters. I wish so much to be enveloped and dip my body into these waters that I may feel what most take for granted.

 

I am bound by my brain. In thought. In action. I would wish to be unbound, to take my legs and free myself from this contraption that I am strapped into. To let my arms hold what I care for most, to reach out and grab what I desire. Unbind my tongue and the thoughts you will hear are what I think, the thoughts that I am forced to hold back because I cannot speak. I am strained, trying to speak to the one I truly love.

 

I wish to be taken wherever I want, not my a motor in a chair but by the force of my legs. Legs strong enough to carry my body around, legs that will listen to my brain the way that I want them to act. To act in my manner, not the manner whatever is controlling me. What controls me is not me, it is not what I want, but I am forced to live with the pain.

 

If I could reach out and grab my desires, the things that I believe that I want, how much better would my life be. If I dress myself, the pain could disappear. The humiliation of someone else having to place the clothes that I want on my back instead of doing them myself. The one that I love, if I could reach out and grab a hold of his hand, and take it, pressing it against my heart. In a way of telling him how much I love him. If I could embrace him in a hug that did not feel one sided. To be able to type what I so truly wish to tell those who I feel are my friends. I am bound in body. What I want to do, so badly, is to be free of these restraints and to be free.

 

I love you. Words that can barely escape these tortured lips of mine. A voice that won’t listen to my thoughts. My truest feelings are locked inside, save for a computer that although has the simplest of things that I can say, does not reach down into my heart, it cannot bring from my mouth the things that I wish to say. To my family. To my friends. To the one person as to who love. Why am I forced to be bound, bound by the worst binding ever. I am bound by my tongue.

 

So far I have mentioned the one I love. I didn’t always trust him the way I do today, and I do not trust him the same amount today as I will tomorrow. I once felt that he would run away from me, I once felt that what I am outwardly would scare him. That my touch would hurt him so much that he would turn away from me. That the chair would hold me back from him, that he would not get all that I wish that I could give, because the words “I love you” are taken from me. Taken from him.

 

I am now smitten with him, our love unites us together. But this time, it isn’t me. It is him who I feel is distancing himself from me. Is it me,  is it something I said, something I neglected to say. He tells me that it is nothing, but I fear that he is slowly abandoning me. But all I think back to is how much our love is uniting us together, this is a love that even separated from each otherf it strengthens each day and holds us tight.

 

I know that he will never abandon me. I know that when he speak the three most simple words known to mankind, he means every single syllable of them. “I love you”. If only I could sing the refrain back to him, but deep down I know that he feels the same.

 

He holds me together in a world that looks down on me. A world that doesn’t accept me for who I am, but he looks past the culture of society, the views of everyone around. He looks into my soul and sees who I truly I am. He spends much of his time looking for a way to unlock me from this curse, but not for his own, personal gain. No, not something so selfish. He does so that I can feel comfortable inside the body that I have been given. What I fear he doesn’t realize is that while he is looking for a way to give me a better life, I too want to help piece his life together. Because my life may be shattered from my past, his has been exploded into so many tiny fragments that it isn’t salvageable.But here I am, ready to piece his life together, while he pieces my own back together.

 

The part of my life that he is piecing together, comes not from the way society has treated. But from the way that my own family has treated me. Punishing me for something that I cannot control. The word disability, a challenge to me, a terrifying word to my family. I work hard to make it not define who I am, but to build me up, give me a reason to fight for my life. But they work hard to tear me down, but here I stand with him by side to help me fight back.

 

My body holds me back from showing my talents. My arms lock me back from holding my life in my hands. My legs hold me from walking towards my future. My tongue locking me from saying the words that I want to say. And everything is held away from me in society because of a chair that I am stuck in. Here I am, God save me. From the thing that holds me back the most.

 


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