written February 2024
last night, i went to bed at 8:30 P.M.,
because otherwise, i'd've woken up with a migraine
and been incapacitated today.
so this morning, i wake up at six
and spend half an hour laying in bed,
staring at the ceiling,
filled with existential dread.
why, i ask myself,
why did i feel the need to get a college degree?
i just don’t think this life is made for me.
and i'm not wrong—
it wasn't made with me in mind.
but what each morning i eventually find
is that, frankly,
it would be a massive waste of time
to turn back now from the daily grind.
so eventually, i rouse myself and get out of bed.
there's a headache pounding out a beat in my head,
but i ignore it for now
and go about my daily routine.
on sore feet
and on knees that feel like they're being stabbed,
i stand at the kitchen counter
and i pack a lunch.
plain sandwich, string cheese, yogurt and a spoon,
whatever's easy,
whatever takes the least amount of energy,
because my energy is in short supply these days.
i packed my schoolbags the night before,
so i give myself a moment to sit,
convince myself again not to quit,
eat a less-than-glamourous breakfast
of granola bars and bread,
and take ten minutes to check Discord.
i have 1,129 unread messages
in the #tiktok-dump channel
of my group chat with my best friends.
i close Discord.
my mom drives me to the bus stop
because MCTS hates me specifically
and they got rid of my bus line last summer
just to spite me.
the whole bus ride,
my walker skids around on its worn wheels,
because the brakes don't work anymore
and nobody seems to know where i can go to have them fixed.
i hold it in place with my ankles,
which, surprisingly, hurts my goddamn ankles.
it's a really great way to start the day.
i get to campus just past 8:00,
because i have to be to an 8:30 class
which i'm not even taking,
because apparently SI leaders have to sit through the same lecture
four semesters in a row
in order to do their job.
it's fine; i'm happy to get paid $15
to dissociate for an hour fifteen.
i just wish they hadn't changed the time
this semester to be so early,
because at 8:30, i'm still in pain
while my body tries to boot up my brain.
the campus fucking sucks.
it starts with the sidewalk,
the unevenly-paved,
pothole-ridden,
blocked-by-construction-vehicles-ass sidewalk.
every day, at least once,
the wheels of my walker
get hooked on a hole
and all the shit i use it to carry
goes soaring off the seat
to collide with the concrete.
it makes me feel like screaming in frustration,
but, despite my agitation,
i still don't want people to look at me
and think i've lost my mind
(even though i definitely have)
and so i just sigh
and pick my shit up
and carry on
and wonder how it is that
my school seems to have the funds
to advertise on the side of my bus
but not to smooth out their sidewalk.
in the winter,
nothing is shoveled or salted.
not only do my wheels skid,
but i get to play my favourite game,
"slip and stumble and crack your cranium,"
a game which i so desperately do not want to win.
and, of course,
the things that get shoveled the worst
are always (1) the curb cuts,
which are already stupidly situated
in places that are less than appropriate
for how we crips navigate campus,
and (2), of course, the ramps,
because everyone knows that the group of people
who are least impacted by inclement weather
are those of us who struggle to get around
without the climate clowning on us.
so my walker becomes a snow plough,
because otherwise, i'm not getting to class
(and this class has an attendance policy).
did i mention that the push buttons never work?
because the push buttons never work!
the push buttons! you know,
those little silver plates
that say "push to open"
but never open when pushed?
yeah, those push buttons!
yeah, i guess the batteries on those just… suck?
so we poor schmucks
are just kinda stuck
standing there
while the world moves around us unaware
and we try to figure out,
would it be faster to call the number they provide,
or to just go to a different fucking door?
in which case, you hope there's a different door,
cuz some buildings—
i'm looking at you, [B]itchell Hall—
only have one accessible entrance.
once inside the building,
the doorways are too goddamn narrow.
it doesn't matter which building you're in—
they are all guilty of this same sin.
just because your building is 100 years old
doesn't mean you just leave it inaccessible, y’all!
let's update some of this architecture
before you fuckin' fall
and break your bone
and it's your turn to moan
over the state of this damn campus.
cuz there's a reason we call you
"pre-disabled" behind your backs:
you're all just one good illness or injury—
or if you're lucky, a few decades of aging—
away from becoming Disabled like the rest of us.
and if i had a dollar
for every budding scholar
who was clearly uninformed
that the bathroom's "big stall"
is not meant for all,
not meant for able-bodied people who
"just want a little more space!!1!"
i would be able to pay off my student loans.
i do this for eight hours.
it's late when i get home—
or at least, late for me,
because the class i was required to take
for my stupid college degree
ends at 5:15 PM,
and my bus ride is another 45 minutes,
and then my mom has to take me home from the bus stop,
so it's around 6:15 when i get to come inside
and take off my clothes
and take a shower
and put on my pajamas
and sink into the sofa
and lose myself for a minute.
but all too soon, 8:00 comes,
and i have to start to brush my teeth
and moisturize my face
and rub in my testosterone gel
and wash my hands one last time for the night
and i sit on the sofa once again
and i fall asleep there
after taking my 600,000 meds.
somewhere around midnight,
i wake up.
i trudge up to bed
and crawl between the worn flannel sheets.
holding a pillow against my chest,
i lull myself to sleep
ith the assertion—
or, more accurately, prayer—
that someday,
someday,
this will all be worth it.
and then tomorrow, i'll do it again.