Male (mah-leh)

Noun, Italian, meaning evil or ailment.

I love that it means both things. Seriously.

During the JAM walk this weekend, I realized how horrible JA is. I mean, obviously, I always knew growing up that these diseases sucked. Hell, I’ll even definitely share that during my early teens, I didn’t want to be alive because of it. I hated that I was always in pain, that I never felt good, that I could be as physical as other young people. I was dealing with other evil things too though, including issues stemming from sexual abuse.

To be honest, I’ve always been a big talker. I talk about what I’m going to do, or think about what I’m going to do, but I don’t follow through with a lot of things I do. Being depressed and on the verge of hurting myself, well, sometimes I wonder if that was my brain going through the same.

The point is, though, that I saw little babies, children younger than when I was diagnosed, with orange shirts on (at JAM, you get an orange shirt if you have arthritis and a white one if you don’t). I thought about them feeling the same pains I have. I thought about them feeling as hopeless as I do sometimes. It was really overwhelming.

Something that can attack children, that can force them into wheelchairs and onto crutches for years, that can blind and cripple them before they even really have the chance to experience life – that, to me, is what evil is.

Odio questo male, con tutto ciò che sono

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