I can't begin to understand you and your struggles.
You with the arm that you can no longer feel; but who gets on with life, gets up every day and goes to work,
and you who were born in a mans body; not the body you know you should have,
and you who's body has ballooned in size but who can still smile a beautiful smile.
And you, deaf and unable to speak but able to work and make a living.
All the looks and snide comments, all the ignorance and abuse.
And you, you with anxiety and depression,
that only I know of; as I see that you have detected it within me.
I cannot begin to understand you and your life,
But I see your struggle,
I feel your pain.
Do you feel mine?
