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.

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