Personally I find this slightly cheesy, but that's ok. Also, this was supposed to be a song as well, but again I got lazy and just tweaked it to be a poem. :) Appreciate
The things That are Loved. For those things Can be taken Gone In an instant. In a snap of fingers, A puff of breath, A tick of a clock, A skip of a rock. Keep the seconds Of the life that we live Counted. Because everything we know, Everything we have, Everything we love, Can go. Take care of the things That can be gone. They can leave In a snap of fingers, A puff of breath, In a tick of a clock, The skip of a rock. If we appreciate Anything at all If we appreciate Things big and small If we count the seconds Of The Life We live All the time, We'll know That Everything we love Can Go.
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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 T M," 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. Why do I like to run? I mean, why would anyone? I scroll through social media and see all these memes about not running. I look at them and just have to shake my head, because those who don't run are greatly missing out. Sure, it's hard work, and definitely 'fun' at first glance. To me, though, it's perfect. I don't run to stay in shape; I run because running is ME. I feel my feet hit the ground and feel it align with the rhythm of my breathing. I feel hot and sweaty and disgusting, but that's just the best feeling. I feel aches and pains throughout my body, as all runners do, but I push through them with ease because I have learned to, like anything, and I'm strong. Runners are strong. I'm proud to call myself a runner, and I'm proud every time I finish a race, whether it be 800 meters or 6 miles. I'm proud of the technique I have developed in running different distances, a technique that works. Not every run leaves me feeling fulfilled, and every time that I leave without satisfaction just leaves me hungry for more; I know that I'll do better next time. And racing. Racing is stressful, and sometimes I wish that I hadn't signed up for it, but once I've started, I fly. I dodge and zigzag through and pass people, some races more than others. When it's track or cross country, my peers, I waste a little energy whispering "good job" as I pass, because every runner, even my competitors, is my team. I'm not different to them, and they're not different to me. We're simply all runners. We all love it, and we all spent a heck of a lot of ourselves getting to where we got. Running, in a way, reflects TM, and it definitely prepared me. For a year and a half I studied for an important test without knowing it, and I'm glad I did. |
AboutHi, I'm Jen Starzec, and I'm 19 years old. I write a lot about disability and chronic illness, especially related to my main disorder, Transverse Myelitis. I also have a lot of poetry and some short stories. Enjoy! Categories
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