Today's OneWord: Translucent
The light from the frosted window was translucent, creating a harsh glow of outside energy against my bed. As I tried to wake up fully, I could feel an awkward weight against my bones. The illness, I knew, was getting worse. I wasn't quite sure if I'd be able to walk without a cane, maybe even two. It was getting more apparent that I would need a wheelchair.
The doctors hadn't known what to make of my ailment. No diagnoses seemed to cut it. It simply seemed, they said, that I was like Atlas, and the weight of the world was literally pushing me into submission.
The doctors hadn't known what to make of my ailment. No diagnoses seemed to cut it. It simply seemed, they said, that I was like Atlas, and the weight of the world was literally pushing me into submission.
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