i don’t think i will ever be able to perform as well as a normal person despite how hard i try bc i think i expect too much from myself, i think i might be able to do certain things but some of those things are unrealistic and a long way from what i am capable of, even if i did try and do them i would probably struggle.
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Wish I could offer more but I’m struggling at the moment so it’s a bit random but anyway off the top my head…
Comparison is the thief of joy - Theodore Roosevelt
No matter what your going through there is always someone going through worse. You just have to make the most of what you do have.
My favorite poem,
The flower
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.
And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
and said with great excitement, “Look what I found!”
In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off and play,
I faked a smile and then shifted away.
But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
and placed the flower to his nose
and declared with overacted surprise,
“It sure smells pretty and it’s beautiful, too.
That’s why I picked it; here, it’s for you.”
The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might, never leave
so I reached out for the flower, and replied. “Just what I need.”
But instead of placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
that weed-toting boy could not see he was blind.
I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
as I thanked him for picking the very best one.
“You’re welcome,” he smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he’d had on my day.
"I sat there and wondered how he’d managed to see
A self-pitying man beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at least I could see
The problem was not with the world, the problem was me
And for all those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
And appreciate every second that’s mine.
And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And I smiled as I watched that young boy
Another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of another unsuspecting old man.
Author - unknown
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That’s most likely the reason why.
Ode to can
There’s a four lettered word
As offensive as any
It holds back the few
Puts a stop to the many.
You can’t climb that mountain
You can’t cross the sea
You can’t become anything you want to be.
He can’t hit a century
They can’t find a cure.
She can’t think about leaving
or searching for more.
Because can’t is a word with a habit of stopping
The ebb and flow of ideas
It keeps dropping itself where we know
in our hearts it’s not needed
And saying “don’t go”
when we could have succeeded.
But those four little letters
That end with a T
They can change in an instant
When shortened to three.
We can take off the T
We can do it today
We can move forward not back
We can find our own way.
We can build we can run
We can follow the sun
We can push we can pull
We can say I’m someone
Who refuses to believe
That life can’t be better
With the removal of one
Insignificant letter.
Andy Flemming
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