I hope

I don’t really know where to start with this blog. All I know us that things have happened that have made me reflect on what I’m doing with life.

It’s the hardest thing to cope with when your disabled, loosing those who are close to you, you become a tight knit group with the ones you build friendships with, there’s no explanation of life’s difficulties, your not judged on what you can or can’t do and at that early age, these people are the people who make you realise, often for the first time in your life, your not a freak. We are just people, trying to get the most out of life with crap bodies.

Some bodies, like second hand cars, will break down before you reach your destination. Sadly, leaving some behind for ever. It’s so unbelievably cruel. It breaks my heart and never, ever gets easier.

I want to call my close friends and tell them. I love them. And let them know just how much I care and are thankful for them. I don’t think I tell them often enough, and if I was to ever loose them, I’d regret not telling them.

I should stop winging and wasting time worrying about little, stupid, insignificant  things. Life is short what the hell am I doing, of any real difference to this world? Nothing, really.. So I’ve created a bucket list, do I don’t look back on this lucky life of mine and thing ‘shoulda, woulda, coulda’. I’m too scared of my own shadow at times, and get all too frustrated at my limitations. Yet I’m still here, breathing and stuff. I think I forget how lucky I am.

Maybe it’s a sign, but I keep seeing things that strike a chord, in magazines, on the TV, I hear stories, harrowing ones that for some reason all have the same moral. I gotta keep going, and not waste my life, maybe it’s just because in sensitive or maybe it is my mates kicking me up the arse to do something with my life.

More importantly, I miss my friends so much. If my friend was still alive, he’d be 25 now . It’s weird to think about him sometimes, what he’d be doing with life, what he’d make of me these days, not to mention what he’d look like.

I like to think he’s looking over me, and whatever I’m doing, he’s proud and I hope he knows how much I loved him and all the others and just how much I miss them..

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