At the Brooklyn Library, there are always some handicapped kids just chilling. Seeing disabled people makes me feel uncomfortable. Why can’t everyone look, sound and act just like me? But my unease is just situational. Once I walk by them, I can stop thinking about the genetic lottery known as life.
(Obviously, being retarded does not preclude one from a fulfilling life. It’s just that being retarded is harder than not being retarded.)
When I was 16, I went hiking in Wyoming for the summer. I thought the outdoors would do me some good. The only problem was that I had never been hiking before and I was the weakest person on my trip. Every morning we’d split into two groups and no one would want to be with me. :(, right? At the time, I remember thinking that since I had to be with myself every day, I’d always be in the slow group. That was also :(.
One possible benefit to being retarded: Not having an existential crisis at 16.