Bright, tawdry colors flashed past my uncaring eyes as carnival music filled my ears. Pictures of horses and green meadows whipped by; I didn't have the effort to stare at them. The many colors made my head hurt.
My mom's cool hand gently closed around my arm, so I wouldn't fall off the plastic, color faded horse I was riding. Drool trickled out of my mouth like a forgotten water tap, my head lolled to the side. I made an effort to close my mouth but couldn't. My body felt numb, uncontrollable. Mind over matter wasn't true.
My body wouldn't work, no matter how hard I willed it. The doctors said that I would never be normal. Not after the accident. Eyes flicking around in annoyance, I saw a little girl, jumping up and down with excitement. She held her mothers hand and led the way to a ride. I'd give everything to be her. Then she was gone.
I tried to focus on one thing, but to no avail. It seemed to go round and round, faster than before. A boy's face stood out to me. We had a class together when I still was going to high school, I think it had been history. Sometimes, I had copied his notes when I had been absent. The name came to my mind, we had called him Blakely.
A tiger paced its cage wanting to get out. Kids laughed and pointed every time he roared. I was like the tiger in some ways. Unable to escape the cage, the disability that life had put me in. When I was rolled past in the wheel chair, I was pointed at, like some kind of freak. Poor tiger, I wished I could free him.
The life I lived was like the merry-go-round I was on. Repetitive cycles that dizzied me. A wailing moan rose from my throat, equal to the frustration I felt. The ride stopped as I was pulled off. I thought idly on the days before the accident. When I could walk, run, and play.
