I’ve had my legs taken out from under me again.

Every time I try to get close to Max, every time things appear to be moving in the direction we both want, something happens and I get slammed into the ground again.

Today was our anniversary. One year ago, she crashed into my life. We were going to celebrate together and I was going to surprise her by standing up, thanks to Phil and his exoskeleton.

I was so full of hope this morning as I tried the exoskeleton for the first time. There I was, teetering on the edge of collapse, barely able to take two steps, yet grinning from ear to ear in glee. It was another miracle. They’ve been coming my way fast and furious lately. I hadn’t walked in weeks, but it was amazing how quickly I adapted. I was striding comfortably around the apartment within an hour. I couldn’t wait to share this miracle with Max.

But I didn’t even get the chance. She called and cancelled. Did she even give me a reason? I don’t remember. All I remember is that the lights went out around me and the walls closed in on me. I’m back in my solitary prison. As I extinguished the candles on the dinner table, I couldn’t help but think that my little hopes are just like those candles, easily snuffed out with just a thumb and an index finger.

I want to be able to stand up for her, to walk for her, to dance with her. But what’s the point? I might as well just stay in this chair because each time I try to get up, I just get sent to my knees again. As I look out the window into the night, the world seems too sharp, the lights too bright. It should be darker. I wish it would rain.