Personal Experiences


You know those old Christmas lights? When one bulb in the string of lights burns out, the rest of them stop lighting up as well. One would have to search through the entire string of lights just to find the dead one. When that one is replaced, the rest would shine once again…. But oftentimes, it isn’t quite the same. If the lights were colored, the old, red one might be replaced by a blue one, disrupting the entire pattern. And even if it’s not that drastically different, more often than not, the new light sticks out, even if it’s subtle; the color may be a slightly different shade than the others, or the bulb may shine brighter or duller than its friends.

You see, life is similar in that way. Most things are not entirely replaceable. And oftentimes it is way more heartbreaking than a broken Christmas light.

A fifteen year old girl can die suddenly. The world keeps spinning and the vast, vast majority of people on Earth continue with their lives, oblivious to the devastation happening in the relatively small string of people whose lives were touched by the young girl. But to them, especially the ones closest to her, it can feel like an earthquake. A hurricane. A tsunami. To them, it is Earth-shattering and life-changing. To them? Well, their lives may never be the exact same again, because when that little girl left this world, she took a piece of the heart of everyone who cared about her… Some pieces bigger than others. And in her place is a dark spot, one that makes everyone in her orbit feel like they can no longer light up, either.

Friendship, Insecurities, My Favorites, Poems

The Golden Flower

The flower
In the flower patch
Is different.

It lies
Golden yellow
In a sea of blue.

It has no one,
No one to compare to,
And it feels

The others,
The sea of blue,
Is one.
They decide.
They mock
The poor golden flower.

The young boy
In the schoolhouse
Is different.

He is peaceful
In a sea of chaos.

The boy goes out,
Out to the flower patch,

One by one
He pulls
Every blue flower
As golden one
Watches in horror.

Across the flower patch
He sees a girl
A girl who’s peaceful.

He takes the sea,
The sea of blue flowers,
To her,
And together
They walk into
The sunset.

The golden flower
No longer looks
At the peaceful
Boy and girl,
As the sea of blue
Is now gone,

Another golden flower.

Friendship, Insecurities, Poems

The Tree

The tree, leaves so green, flowers so bright,
Its leaves are dropping,
Filled with despair.

The tree, leaves so green, flowers so bright,
Hugging me
Filled with joy.

The tree, leaves so green, flowers so bright,
In the
Filled with fear.

I miss those days when
The tree, leaves so green, flowers so bright,
Would tell me
How it felt.

But now I’m grown;
Now I know
That trees cannot do such.

But wait.

Is that the tree
Saying he’s crushed?

I can feel the tree beaming with pride
When I decide to stop


Chronic Illness, Disability, Personal Experiences, Transverse Myelitis

Life is a Box of Chocolates…

That Forrest Gump quote:

“Life is a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.”

I got the chocolate nobody wanted. The extra, the last one left, the one smushed and cracked. I had to take it; it wouldn’t be polite not to.

From the outside, I had no idea what I was in for. It seemed impossible to gain the courage to put it in my mouth. But when I did, I was glad.

Inside of that dusty, cracked chocolate was nothing I had ever tasted before. Some people, the ones with perfectly-shaped chocolate, filled with gooey caramel or fluffy truffle that makes your mouth water at the sight, may view the differences as bad. But that’s only because it was one of a kind; they didn’t get to see the inside.

They may go “poor thing, stuck with that crappy chocolate”.

And it’s true that I had to get through the stale shell, but it was worth it because it came with a lifetime’s worth of satisfactions.

That is my life living with Transverse Myelitis.

At first, I didn’t know if anything was going to get better. But once I got past that hard shell,
I realized that my life is unique. It’s different, and although people probably do say: “Poor thing,
stuck with that crappy TM,” they don’t actually know what’s inside. They don’t know that what’s inside is rewarding because every time I’m able to do something (anything) again, like tie my shoes or run a few meters, I appreciate it much more than I did before.

That is the tasty, hidden part that nobody but me craves, because they’ve never gotten the chance
to see it.

So I say: “poor them” to anyone who doesn’t know what a real accomplishment is, because knowing that you’ve accomplished something, big or small, is that secret ingredient.

The secret ingredient to the inside of any piece of chocolate, crappy on the outside or not.