Awake at 5:50am. I sleep better and awaken more alive than when things were the other way around. The world is quiet so I must be quiet in return. The dog sitting on my lap, breathing deeply. I watch as her little black lashes flutter shut. We've been best friends for thirteen years and I can't bear the thought of being in this body without her. I've walked early in the mornings since I started to venture outside again. Down back dirt roads, my hands out wide to part the long grass. It tickles between my fingers, another part of my body that I never think to touch. But nature knows better what I need than I know myself, and so despite the bad knees and the bad hips and the bad back and the bad neck I persevere, knowing that the dogs who run at me barking won't bite, and knowing that somehow I'll always make it home. I've been soaked to the skin more days than I care to count, but it doesn't matter because I've already been drowned in so many things and none of them have killed me. My legs are painful but they are strong. I referred to myself as a kitten for so long because I couldn't find my upper body strength, but now I laugh in a penthouse with my friends, them thinking that they are fitter and stronger because they are lean and they are not sick. But I've learned to carry something that nobody else can carry, and time after time I can hold difficult positions longer than them all. I breathe through the discomfort, just like I always have and I win, just like I always have. I am doubted because I am not well, and nobody doubts more than I do, but sometimes I feel as though somehow this life was meant for me. I used to wonder, 'why me?', but I remind myself of something very important - 'Why not me?'.