What makes the world go round?

I have had time to think, between the cleaning. My apartment, this temporary shelter is now clean. I look at it and if I could just feel safe, I know I could stay. I could live here.

I cannot open my door alone, every white van that drives by, it has me jumping out of my skin. Plus, the rat things that were here could return. I cannot stay.

I have reminisced too, thinking on what I was, what I could be. I keep going back to that fateful day when I became irrevocably disabled, when I couldn’t escape it any longer. Yes, I thought I was able bodied, but it was a lie. I was merely Temporarily Able Bodied.

I’ve played it out in my head, the moments, each heart beat. I remember the lift of the van seat, and tried to see what would happen if I had just flowed with the van. It’s a dramatic opera in my head, like an underwater ballet.

The crash of glass is added in, as I, not yet buckled when the accident hit, go through the window. I die in this scenario, the children too. Nothing is better. It is in a way worse. It is worse because of the potential I would’ve stiffled.

It’s the what if game. What if I had made a different choice? Would I still be pent up? Would I still be burdened by fear? Would i still have met my now Ex?

I don’t know. Too many unknowns leave shadows in the game, it lets my mind run wild. None of the alternative scenarios are good. Most of them end in a gory death. I turn my imagination off and wonder too, the what if’s of the future.

What if they cure my disorders? Will it be an in the womb cure? Eugenics? Do I want them cured? Then I back track into that past of mine again, dodging the shadows of terror, to acknowledge my disabilities have saved me too.

I cannot change the past, and again am reminded, I do not want to. I want to be just me. I like who I am. I like knowing what makes me tick. If I changed the past, I would be someone else, and I do not think I would be happy, if alive.

This too reminds me of the cure, if they were to cure this body, it would take an erasure of my own history, which would again alter me. Without my memories do I lose my essence? Probably.

I am tough, and I can be out and out mean. I have had to let this meanstreak run. Oh, I may make a few barbed jokes here and there, but while cleaning this temporary shelter, while digging my way out with the help of K my new care giver, I have had to be cruel.

I cannot return every single thing he has bought to him, because I do not have room to store it all. I am still astounded at the amount of trash that one person can accumulate. We went into the storage area today, I secretly long to find my missing stuffed rabbit. The only vestage of my childhood. I know she’s gone forever. I know he likely desecrated her.

I am going to do something wicked too. I am going to live. I will find a place that I can go, I will find a place where I can thrive. Today, I renew myself, fertile grounds to grow in. The seeds of who I am are planted, and although I have had many winters in this life, as the world I live in turns to fall, my own heart begins a spring.

I dream of feeling safe. I dream of freedom. I dream of walks on sunny days. I dream of taking the cats out to play. I dream of small children visiting me. I drema too, of the stories I will write. When I am moved, I can return to my novel. I can feel safe enough to let myself play.

Today, I plant the seeds of dreams. I set new goals. They are all short ranged goals, but they are goals. I will survive. I have survived. I am surviving.

My Name:
by Kateryna Fury

My name is not victim.
My name is not survivor.
My name is not Woman.
My name is all these things and more. My name is life.
My name is Joy.
My name is Love.
My name is freedom.
My name is strength.
My name is mine.

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