There are versions of me no one knew long enough to miss except me. I did not realize how much identity lived in ordinary plans until those plans stopped fitting. My body keeps rewriting terms I never agreed to. It is strange to be grateful and grieving at the same time for what remains. I am still trying to make peace with the life that will not happen.
The Wall
Safety and moderation
This space is moderated for safety. Posts encouraging harm, abuse, harassment, doxxing, or graphic content may be removed.
If you may harm yourself or someone else, contact local emergency services or 988 in the U.S.