I cry a lot.

Pretty much any time a good movie is on. But last night I cried alone about my own life for the first time in almost ten years. I cried about my legs being taken away from me… although that’s not really true. They weren’t taken from me I mean, it was more like I gave them up. And now all I’m left with…is time. Time to think mostly. About the future, what happened, bills, and the likes. Everyone is staying so positive. But I saw it in the doctor’s eyes. His eyes couldn’t lie to me. I didn’t realize it until today but my feet are really jacked up. There are 4 screws in the right one and 9 in the left. Not to mention two plates, some wire, and two huge pins that start out outside of my skin and criss cross inside the foot itself. The worst break is the left navicular which is about the size of a lump of coal. I broke it into ten pieces.

I am not depressed yet but I don’t want to put out a false image that I am the most positive person in the world either. It’s a hard time right now. I’m in the tunnel and it’s dark. I can’t see the end yet. And that makes me question if it’s even a tunnel at all. Maybe it’s a real deep cave. I just want to be honest. Honest with myself that is.

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Then again, if all else fails. I could always just get a wooden peg leg that detaches with a knife to scare kids.