To the Cruel Disease That Tried to Break Me: You Failed
I bet you thought you could break me.
You came into my life after I graduated from college, an unwelcome visitor when I was just beginning to experience all the world had to offer. You took the dreams I had for my life and threw them to the ground. Spit on them. Buried them in the same dirt I would fall facedown on years later.
You attacked my muscles slowly at first, just subtly enough for me to shrug it off as laziness and fatigue. I would work out hard, but you kept coming back harder. Eventually I would learn that the more I tried to preserve my muscle mass, the more you would destroy my muscle cells. You’re a cruel disease. You killed my cells when I was active. You killed my cells when I was inactive.
Three years ago, you almost broke my spirit. Falling face-first onto the sidewalk for the first time – you almost had me. The gravel, the blood on my hands, the torn jeans — those were minor inconveniences compared to the emotional toll it took on me. I’ve never felt so down in my life.