The battle of existing within a body that chronically debilitates has had its way with me. The soreness the achiness. The exhaustion and aging. I find it to be molding. Molding me to become something of a statue. One of amazement that brings you to stare in awe. The intricacies would have a blind man in awe. The statue is my fight. My symbolization of accepting survival of death for the day. For the week. For the month. For the year. Year after year and as I reflect on the last 11 years. I realize I am at a transformation point. It will not always be hard. Life will get easier. Shape my reality so that it can be rewarding. It’s ok to slow life to be rewarding. It’s been a long while since I’ve had a place to call home. And in that comfort I’m able to accept the beauty in existence. The community I feel is one of friendliness. One of understanding. And one of compassion.