Some days I struggle to get out of bed. I lose the battles I’m fighting in my head. I can’t even manage to put my feet on the floor. Let alone clean and dress and get myself out the door. Sometimes my trials are too big for me, and all I can manage is going back to sleep. Some days I flat out refuse to behave. I know my grandmother is rolling over in her grave. But I just can’t stand down or straighten my act. I walk a crooked line as a matter of fact. Sometimes my crawling leaves me far behind, but I never promised and adequate finish time. I may not be able to always be good. I may not stand tall the way that I should. I may not live up to what you want me to be, but I am always capable of being me. Well, I’m not successful in the eyes of my peers. I often wish I could vanish, just disappear. I get so tired of failing. I just want to go home. My one reprieve is knowing I’m not alone.