All Up In My Feelings...

 wishing for guarantees that I can't ask for. Some make sense, like wishing I could get up in the morning with minimal fuss and drama for the next(30-ish) years, or maybe that I drop like a rock before I have to think about the clownish misery of 2024 for real---I don't know which I'd request.  Not that it's up to me exactly.  At least, not in an "Add To Cart" sense, or a "Believe, then Achieve" sense; there are choices that might lead me one way or the other, but...

Some are ridiculous, as if were hoping I could get someone good to sing at  Mom's 100th birthday.  (Although Grandma did live to be ninety+ so it could happen...would that be good?)
I wish I'd lived more, not losing time to Getting Better All The Time, depression when that didn't work, and wrangling the five-paragraph essay.

Sometimes it seems too late to have any kind of life I want, though it's not that I can't survive...it's just that I'd like to know what "thriving" felt like. Was joking with a bunkie about my state meeting, as we often do, because they are ridiculous on their faces, and because they exist to catch us, in some sense or other. As if I hear them coming up(of all things to return to pre-pandemic status) and hop back into my wheelchair saying "Psych!" or that we love talking to social workers so much(high school me says "not!") that we'd just forget the money tree in the courtyard.  You could tell we didn't need you from the *parade*. For real.

Unlike what I sardonically messaged my bunkie, though, I think they are surprised when we make it through another quarter on crumbs and fairy dust. I think we are supposed to *fail*, whatever other message they send out with that kitty poster from the seventies, or whatever they say when the tarter side of my personality bleeds through and I accidentally say something they think is negative.
They check all the time because they can't believe anyone could do so much with so little.  So there must be something crooked about it. But It's like that country-rook hit from the '80s: Looking For Scum In All The Wrong Places.Although usually I do end up feeling as though they found some here, by the end of it.  

Usually just because nobody wants to grow up, kiss ass in school, including more worry about one's permanent record than is wholesome, just to be...well, this. Along with adding in a side of "Nobody wants to work anymore" when we try to get the meager protection the system promises. Yep, midlife with a disability is a real kick. Almost gives me a deeper reason to be jealous of all the Make-A-Wish kids I grew up with. Even if I wouldn't  take Disney World gift-wrapped, now(even if I didn't know about the counselor at Disneyland.)