Her Pride and Prejudice

She sits there staring off into space. The wanting is so strong she can almost taste it. Outside her window is a big beautiful world full of possibilities. Inside, her self-imposed prison closes in like a vice. The walls are covered with posters of far-away places. The flat surfaces overflowing with books that take the reader on journeys made for dreams. The furniture is scratched and battered showing signs of age and wear. Just like she is

It was not that long ago when she could jump into the car on a whim and go wherever she wanted. Her friends were many and varied. There were beach parties and cookouts in the summer, skiing and sledding in the winter. Fun filled days that blended into one another full of bright promise and laughter. Hot and steamy nights of raucous revelry and intense loving. Those were the days

The wheelchair sits in the corner gathering dust. The paisley throw has slipped off the side, showing the bright shiny metallic arms, mocking her with its lack of usage. She does not need the reminder. She knows every second of every day that she is no longer the person she once was. The gnarled legs beneath her pants ache in admonition, never letting her forget. Even if she could

They told not to be so proud. Her exile need not be so complete. What do they' know anyway? They' are not the ones with limbs that fail without a moment's notice, flinging them into a heap like discarded refuse. It is difficult enough to acknowledge she needs the use of those god-awful canes. Only the old and decrepit should be using those. The pitying looks she gets simply going into the doctor's office is enough to make a sane person scream. She does not want the pity. She wants her life back. If only

Her prejudice for those who are whole is palpable, turning her heart cold and hard. Who wants a cripple around putting a pall on everyone's fun? It is better to sit here, alone and unwanted.

Or is it?