I don't believe that the things that I want in life will become a reality for me no matter how much I work for it.

I'd like to have legs again. I can't afford the types of prosthetics that I would need. The list goes on and on and on. I'd love to have teeth. Can't afford those. I'd love a heart transplant but my diabetes disqualifies me. I found out yesterday that even if I had the stamina to work, it would cost me $160 per day to get to work and back.

I'm not looking for pity but I'm not beyond recognising that I won't get everything by working for it. Not beyond recognising that there are very real obstacles that cannot be overcome. Not beyond recognising that I have physical and mental illnesses no matter the amount of effort that I am able to expend.

I never expected life to come to me on a plate. I was born to privilege and I worked to maintain that privilege until I lost my mind. Loosing it again, now, doesn't give me the impetus to give a damn about "the good stuff."

Damn. Muhammad Ali died.