Disability

What you see is someone convulsing on the ground, grunting in pain and gasping for air. Lack of control of limbs and the violence those limbs become. "Is she dead?" they ask as they see the person on the ground, and another consoling them as they continue to struggle. "They can hear you" is the response The Person Who Cares gives. But does that really matter? I mean, even conscious, I was never taken into account. It's only ever been what is seen, never actually knowing beyond the surface.

"I am alive, and I am a human" is what I would've said, if I could. But I couldn't...and the pain continued.

What you don't see is everything I hear and feel.

I hear everything around me when it happens. Sometimes in echos, sometimes like I were millions of miles away, and sometimes, just as clear as a regular conversation being had with me.

I feel like my entire body is being tortured with fire and knives. Every inch of me is burning up and being stabbed repeatedly and I can't even scream.

I desperately reach for the hand of The Person Who Cares and try so hard to get them to hear me. "Help me, please" I say in grunts, but it does not translate. "You're going to be okay. You're safe" I hear them say as though they understood my fear. I feel their hand caressing my hair trying to calm me down. The love embedded in a single motion makes the world slow down for a moment.

Breathe.

Breathe...

I can't...

It won't stop...

Panic.

It sets in again and the violent motions begin once more. The already bruised areas that were healing are now reinjured. My lungs cannot get air and the wheezing in desperation for relief begins. I have access to one finger. Tap Tap. My indicator to The Person Who Cares that I am okay. My only yes. My only communication.

"I am so sorry you have to see this" I want to say to them. I want to push them away so they can't see the damage anymore. I want to get them to take care of themselves because I know I am not worth the trouble. I would lie to them and say I was okay just so that they can go and be okay, while I deal with my mess alone. I desperately want them to forget about me and let me go...

But I remember...

I need them more than ever. I cannot be alone. As much as I don't want to say how much I just need to be held...I need that more than anything. I need to feel safe. I need to feel cared for. I need to feel loved. I need them to stay close.

As I write this, I slowly recalled the heavy feeling of dying. The slipping into darkness but knowing that the end does not exist in the moment. And as people passed by me, as I am convulsing, grunting, gasping for air, and injuring myself, that is when I was human to them. That is the moment they realized that I had a beating heart just like them. But my heart was torn to shreds by their carelessness.

Living is difficult. Every muscle in my body is aching from all of the hours of lack of control. I've gone days without sleep because of the pain. But no one would've ever known had it not happened the way it did.

To the people who saw me: this is the version of me that lives in the depths of night. I hide it so no one can see the damage. I'm sorry you did. This is not how I wanted to be known, but now you know.

To the people who still ridicule me: I would never wish this pain upon you. Ever. I genuinely hope you never endure anything like this for yourself, nor know anyone who has to go through this.

And to The Person That Cares: Thank you for being everything I need right now. You have no idea all the things I want to say to you, but don't have the right words right now. Thank you for being my new family. <3