I could be more kind, more generous. Sometimes I wonder if I have a heart at all, until I feel the cracks opening, widening, sharp splinters falling away inside my chest.
Am I more than vocabulary and purse, more than half-ideas and tepid inclinations? Can I move beyond my present self, break through these phantom walls, and act upon the world in real and useful ways? What can I do?
I'm like a quadriplegic with a brand-new set of tools—shiny and strong, but of no real use to the owner. How may I regain the strength of my withered arms and put these tools I have to work? Do I still have time to heal and grow and build something of value in my life, something that will extend beyond myself?
What can I do? What do you need out there in the world? How can I help?