'my Unfillable Shoes'

I have one simple question for you. If you could, would you walk in my shoes? For one minute, hour, day, month, or year? But you can’t I fear. Even if you wanted to, or I made you. I’m afraid that request will never come true. All I can do is explain. And hope you don’t think it’s a lie…or in vain. But here, I’ll try to explain. Every day I see mostly blur. Walk around totally unsure. Of where things are around me. Yes I can see. The flowers, the trees. I am blessed, and grateful. I remain faithful. But the depth, the distance isn’t there. No matter how much I squint or stare. But I do what I can, and get by. No matter what I always try. But this is just a part. A start. Of what I go through. All I can do is tell you. I can’t show you. Or cause you. To go through it. So you have to take my word for it. Every day I wake up. Most days I feel messed up. I walk around in a haze. As if I’m trying to get through a maze. My head, my leg, is always in pain. Most people would go insane. But I deal with it. I get through it. The medicine only makes me sicker. Instead of healing me quicker. With epilepsy. You see. There is always a risk of dying. But I push on, keep trying. I keep a smile on my face. But it gets erased. When I am accused. Of this being what I choose. Or that it’s not real. You will never know what I feel. But I tell you now. I would never wish this on you anyhow. I would never want or ask of you. To ever have to walk in my shoes. Not for a minute, hour, day, or year. I would rather save you from the tears. From the pain. That I go through again and again. Every day. All I ask, all I need, for you to say. Is I believe you, take my hand, it’ll be okay.