This could have been a great movie. It could have been the love story of two people and one of them just happens to use a chair. It happens all the time. The people in love don’t think about the chair. It’s the other people who think it’s a big deal.
The thing about the chair is it’s just a thing. It’s my legs. It’s how I get around. That’s it.
While you’re sitting in your offices crying about the bravery of this guy who kills himself and leaves everyone else to mourn him, which seems pretty selfish to me, I’m going to be out living the amazing life you didn’t even bother to know was possible. I have friends, and go on sleep-overs, and live a regular life. A life that doesn’t make me want to die. It makes me happy that it’s mine.
And if you want to see what life with a wheelchair really looks like, you can come and hang with me in Venice Beach in July, while I’m defending my skating title out there. Because while you were thinking that living with a wheelchair would make you want to kill yourselves, I was busy becoming a pro skater, and learning how to do drop ins, wheelies, and ride the rail at the skate park.
All of those ideas you have about being “confined” to a chair are wrong. My chair doesn’t just fly down the ramps, it also can show me who the haters are.
Don’t look now, but it’s pointing right at you.
Hoping your next story is a better one,
[Editor’s Note: Take the Poll – Me Before You, Is Hollywood Full of Haters?]