Sometimes, reality truly hurts. Embracing and upholding one's circumstances is the hardest thing to do. But believe me, God hears your cries. Many people consider perfection to be everything. Their minds constantly revolve around the glitz and glamour of life. Don't they ever think that behind all that sparkle lies a sliver of pain suffered by a few?
For example, me. I don't think I'm good at stringing words together. Nor am I someone who enjoys being praised for my talents. I'm not even someone who likes to run in the zone of worldly pleasures. I prefer my own world. Lost in silence. Often, I feel crushed by my circumstances. My limitations seem to prevent me from growing. Almost constantly, I have to contend with these difficulties.
Indeed, I am a person with a disability. I am different from other children. The way I express opinions, communicate – I have a special way of doing these things. A way that is not the same as society in general. A way that often constrains my existence. A way that seems to force me to feel isolated. People always look down on me. They condemn me as useless.
How ironic it is when I have to hear insults stemming from their narrow-mindedness. It hurts. When I have to be in the corner of hateful stares, I wish I could disappear in the blink of an eye. Sometimes I have to try to appear strong. Pretending not to hear all the biting sarcasm that stings my ears. I have to keep smiling at everyone. Appearing perfect, inside and out.
But no matter how hard I try to hide it, no matter how strong I stand, I am still me. Someone who ‘perhaps’ isn't as fortunate as most people. Someone who has to live with limitations. If I were allowed to choose, perhaps I wouldn't want to be born into this world in this condition. Because no one is willing to be humiliated, to be shamed, and to suffer intensely.
It's not just about being insulted or shamed; the harshness of my life goes beyond that. How suffocating it is when I try to interact with others, but they don't understand what I'm saying. They don't grasp what I want. I try to explain with body language, but not many understand. I force myself to speak, but no one listens. Tragic, isn't it? When I'm in a tight spot and truly need help, will the person helping me know my needs?
They will only be confused by me. Then they will distance themselves after knowing my true condition. Again, it comes back to my shortcomings. In my mind, the thought of proving myself always crosses, that I can be the best. But I forget one thing: I have limitations in my struggle. I am not like other children, who have the right to pursue education in public schools.
They will fly freely with all the advantages they possess. As for me? I will be sidelined. I will be secondary to normal children, or even tertiary. For example, none of the people around me understand sign language at all. If I want to shop, not a single vendor understands. If I greet someone, no one responds. I wonder, am I, a person with a disability, really that unimportant?
Aren't we also the nation's successors who have great potential to advance this country? Therefore, I always hope for a government policy that allows people with disabilities like me to receive an education equal to other normal children. I also hope for improvements, even the smallest ones. For example, outreach/socialization about sign language. So, at least they can know what I'm talking about.
Almost constantly, I cry out to God, asking for help. I want those whose hearts are closed to be opened. No more insults, no more disgrace. I truly long for a pure life, full of peace. I don't want to be differentiated, or even ostracized. I long for equal treatment. I want to prove that I am capable, that I can be the best. My tears fall onto the paper, blurring the pen strokes.
No one knows about this. Except for me and God. These tears are useless without effort. Because tears won't change anything. But I believe that even though I am crying now, one day I will reap the fruits of my labor with cheers. I will not give up. No matter how many people underestimate me, I will not falter. I will use that underestimation as a spur to keep moving forward, to keep contending with the suffocating life that truly isn't worth crying over.
NB: This writing is dedicated to people with disabilities. The author takes the perspective of a person with a disability and tries to feel what they feel. Trying to depict a struggle. (The author once entered this writing in a competition organized by Kartunet).