What's wrong?

Numerous times a day, I pause and ask myself what’s wrong. Obviously I know. Disease, division, death, not to mention the old standard — disability.

But, I mean, what’s wrong now? Why do I feel like crying now?

It’s not as if any of this is new.

I thought the prospect of a vaccine would helps, but that’s all it is: a prospect. And it seems farther away now then before I had signed up. I am signed up but so are tons of others.

And it’s cold.

And my shoulder is bothering me.

And my glasses hardly stay on. My face anymore. I actually bought a pair online in hopes they will tide me over. I’m waiting for them to come.

And my wheelchair has problems.

And I know I am better off than many people, which makes me feel worse because I am complaining.

A lot is wrong.