I got out of my wheelchair for this picture.
For you.
For the feed.
Thats the truth.

The chair couldn’t get there.
Too much hassle.
So I walked.
Cane in one hand. Friend in the other.
Not gracefully. People stared.

By the time we reached the goal 🥅 I was already over it.
Then came the standing.
Then the posing.
Then the “hold still”

My legs were folding.
But Iza wasn’t done.
So I kept standing. Kept balancing.

Was it worth it?
Yes.
Not because I had some noble reason to be there –
but because I said I would do it.
And did.

My mood, even when 🌚, still responds to achievement.
Even if the achievement is a pointless photo.

Pain gets quieter when you are busy doing something dumb with conviction.

Purpose doesn’t have to be profound.
It just has to outshout the part of you that wants to stay depressed.

When you are deep in pain, it feels infinite.
Purpose gives it an edge.
It says: this pain is attached to something.
And that alone can keep you from drowning.

Without it, I’m just enduring time.
With it, even if it is just a picture or a sentence or a stranger online –
I’m IN MY LIFE again.
Not just watching it happen to me.