So I went with my friend Shellie to one of her classes last night. And I have to admit, being in the classroom, seeing the work, listening to a teacher, watching speeches... it made me miss what I used to have, and makes me wish my story turned out differently. It's not like I miss the homework and the work involved. I miss the atmosphere and feeling like you're doing something interesting and worthwhile.

So many people think we go on disability because we're lazy and don't want to work, and they don't realize how agonizing it is to lose things like going to school or getting to work. They don't think about how hurtful their comments like that are because we DO want to work, we DO want to have careers, we DO want to finish school.

I had so many dreams and aspirations. First and foremost, I was going to go into the FBI and work in the behavioral side of it. The profiling. And I was damn good at it too. I also wanted to help counsel people who had been in situations like mine. I wanted to reach out to abused children and show them there were people who wanted to help. And finally I wanted to be an author.

The only dream I have left is the last one. I've let the other ones go because it's just not possible. And I still mourn that sometimes.

And it kills me sometimes how people debate my options with me. Because it's not like I haven't sat there and thought of all the possibilities. I get to the point I just sit and nod rather than tell them the cold, hard truth of it. I know they want better for me. I want better for me.

But reality is truly a bitch.