“Things are different for you. I just want you to have a fulfilling life.” I know he means it. The pained look on his face, the proof of his sincerity, doesn’t make me feel any better about his pity. The truth is I’m perfectly happy with the amount of magic I have. Could I be more fabulous with an affinity? Sure. But this is who I am. There’s nothing I can do to change it, which I know because my family has tried for years, and I don’t know any different. It’s hard for them to imagine being average, but for me? It’s everyday life.
Replace the word magic with being disabled and I know exactly how she feels.
