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Every day is an exercise in walking on shattered glass. Today was much worse.
My feet cannot carry my growing weight. That may or may not be a metaphor.
My heels are constantly throbbing. Sometimes the pain is more intense than other times.
Plantar fasciitis renders me immobile.
It strikes at the very core of my existence.
I am restless. I always have to keep moving forward. If I am on a bus or train and it stops moving, I try to get out. If there is a traffic jam, I try to find another way forward instead of sitting around and waiting for it to clear up. I’ll jump off a bridge and swim if I need to get to where I need to go. And I’d rather break down a wall in my way than negotiate with it.
I don’t know how to sit still and wait.
Stillness scares me; Limbo is petrifying.
The mind wanders when the body cannot move, wandering into a deep dark black hole,
A phantom zone.
I feel the most pain when I am still.
Movement is my savior. To move is to agitate,
to rouse, to stir, to trigger, to migrate.
I lost the ability to run last year.
I can’t walk right now,
so I will just crawl around.
I will just keep pressing forward.