The Window

I feel like a failure. Whatever talent I have or had is being wasted as each minute rolls by the ticking clock. The sound of it getting louder and louder. Taunting me. I feel like a beggar. Tattered clothes and all, peering into the window from the outside. Everyone else is inside the door. As I look in, I can see the warm light surrounding them. I can hear from a distance people laughing, smiling, as they climb the ladder of outward success. It’s snowing now, the darkness blankets me as I take slow breaths in the chilled air.

Darkness. My old familiar friend. We have come to know each other so well. For so long I have relentlessly tried to break free from you. I can’t feel my legs now, standing in the snow. My feet get wet and tired from waiting so long outside in the blizzard. I watch still, the others can’t see how I envy.

The ticking of the clock is fierce now, almost screaming at me. Do something, move. My feet frozen in time, stuck in the snow. I beg for help, but no one can hear me because I am on the outside, alone. I try to tap on the window. No one answers. The fire inside the house fills the space with warmth. At the same time, the fire that was once inside me barely flickers. I bang on the door. Waiting for it to open. Nothing.

Silence for me, while the inside roars with breath and light. I do not ask for pity. What I ache for is opportunity. Not given, but rightfully earned. Know this…my struggle is real but do not mistake this for weakness. I may grapple with this illness, but that does not mean I belong in the discard bin. I have a voice, I have opinions, and I have life. I stare through the window, wishing I could grasp my former self.

I start to fade away into the darkness as time moves us on, yet keeps me still. Waiting. Just waiting to join the rest of you.