Dear Sunshine

I don’t typically complain about Sunshine, because Sunshine is a huge part of my life. As a matter of fact, I love Sunshine with all my heart. Sunshine is my wheelchair, and yes, it’s a boy. This is a complaint entry.

I never complain about Sunshine’s presence in my life. I never complain about anything when it comes to him. I never even wish to be normal, because who the hell has time for that sh** when they have plans to take over the world? I love Sunshine a lot, but it’s time I expressed some feelings towards him. Here we go.

Dear Sunshine, You German Son of a B****,

I can’t believe you had the nerve to roll out on me again. I don’t recall treating you neglectfully and I certainly don’t understand why you keep putting my life on hold as if it’s some funny story all the chairs enjoy while being held in the shop.  

I’m mad at you because I defend your ass every single time someone tries to put you down. I never believe the false rumors people spread about you because I know who you are and the intangible good that you have done all your life. I owe you almost everything in my life – my job, education, social life, independence, boyfriends, girls nights, and above all, my confidence – but that doesn’t make it okay for you to roll out the door whenever you please, mister.

I am enraged that you ditched me on my 21^st birthday, but mostly I’m enraged because your absence has affected my confidence, and overall motivation to get sh** done. What pisses me off is I’m good to you – hell, I even named you Sunshine, and most wheelchairs don’t even have a name, you know.

Anyway, I want you to know that you’re missed. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how disabled I’d actually be without you, and I realized that every ounce of confidence I built, I owe to you. You are my access to everything in life and I promise that no matter what anyone ever says about you, I will always love you unconditionally and no one can turn me against you. Please come home soon – fall is almost here and we’re going to own it.

P.S. I was only kidding – you’re not a German son of a b****

Love,

NEE-KOH-LEH-TAH