I had been living with Grotesque Miosis my entire life. It was something no one really understands, but it’s essentially an illness characterized by a loss of muscle function and an inability to interact with the world around me. I can’t move my arms and legs, and I can’t communicate with anyone in a normal way.
People look at me and think I’m some kind of freak. I can tell. They don’t know what to do or how to talk to me, and I can see the confusion in their eyes. It’s like I’m a ghost or something, just seen but never heard. I feel so alone, so isolated.
I have dreams, though. I have fantasies about what my life could be like. I imagine myself up and running, arms outstretched, greeting the world with open arms. I long to be able to go places and do things like my classmates.
But it’s never going to happen. I’m stuck here, unable to move or speak. Sure, I can use computers, but it’s not quite the same. I can dream and fantasize, but it will always remain that: a dream.
The sadness and loneliness really take a toll on me, and it’s been hard to stay positive. I get so frustrated and so angry sometimes, it’s hard to keep it in check. I find myself lashing out at the people who try to help me, which makes me feel even worse. I just can’t seem to get a break and it’s hard to stay motivated.
My sense of self has been completely eroded by Grotesque Miosis. I feel so helpless, so powerless. It’s as if I’m nothing more than an inanimate object, existing but not really alive or part of the world.
Living with this condition has been like living in a prison. I’m confined to this small, dark room and no matter how much I scream or plead, no one can hear me. I’m invisible.
I’m so tired and so exhausted from all the struggling and suffering. I don’t know how much longer I can go on, but I guess I just have to keep going, hoping and praying for a better tomorrow. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m determined to not let my Grotesque Miosis define me.