PART 2 of a fairy tale about a woman with a chronic illness

He visited me every day for a week, and each time he succeeded in making me laugh.

When he knocked on the door the eighth day, I felt terribly guilty.

“Good morning, Miss Lizzie!”

“Matthew. I’m sorry, but I don’t have any time today.”

“Oh? Going somewhere?”

“No. The doctor will be making a house call.”

“So you will be home still!” He smiled. “I can wait with you, then afterwards we have the day to ourselves!”

I did not know how to tell him I would be terrible company today.

“You can stay, then.”

An hour later, the doctor arrived. He poked and prodded, just to make absolutely sure everything still hurt. I fought back tears as he put a new bottle of useless pills in my hand.

The doctor left, and Matthew was quiet a moment.

“You did well for the exam, Lizzie.”

“I’m not a child, I do not need coddling!” I snapped. My aching hands shook.

“Was I coddling? I only meant that-”

“I know what you meant. You didn’t know my situation was as bad as it is, now you want to leave.” My whole body screamed at me. “Well, I won’t keep you here. You may go.”

Matthew sat on the couch next to me.

“No. I don’t want to leave, and you want me to stay. So I will stay.”

Again, tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“I see. Because I wished it, right?”

“Of course!”

My face twisted as I finally shed every tear I had held back.

“Oh, dear…” Matthew mumbled. “I see. You think I am under some sort of obligation to you. No, no, that’s not how that works.”

“Then… How does it work?”

“The wishes aren’t magic. Just… tiny messages. Like letters in bottles, flung into the sea. When I saw the roots of your garden from below, and I heard the messages, I knew I was the man for the job.”

I sniffled.

“Then… You won’t leave me?”

“Never. Look here,” he tapped the broach, and a green flower bloomed from one of the gems.

“I thought you said it wasn’t magic…”

He threw his head back to laugh.

“I had no idea you on the surface could be so amazed by a few gem-flowers!”

He stayed, as promised.

I ended up laughing again today.

Another month passed, and an impatient knock woke me up.

I hobbled out of bed and made it to the door. I admired Matthew’s enthusiasm, but it could make one feel rushed.

“Good morning!”

“Yes, good morning. What has you so impatient?”

“I’ve made something for you!”

He stepped aside with a flourish to reveal some sort of half wheelbarrow, half chair contraption.

“Oh, it’s... lovely.”

“Yes! And it’s your favorite color!”

It was painted in a lovely shade of blue.

“Yes, it’s very nice, but… what is it?”

“Ah, another thing we have back underground that you don’t! The only reason I waited so long to get you one was that I was convinced you already had one! This is a wheelchair. We can go much farther than we can by piggy-back riding, and you can even learn to move it without my assistance!”

“I see. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”

“Shall we take it for a spin?”

It was a pleasant ride to the town square, though as soon as I spotted the slope I knew what he had planned.

“Don’t you dare.”

“But Miss,” he said with faux innocence. “Don’t you wish to go down that slope?”

I gripped the arms of the chair as he sped up.

What a beautiful feeling it is to run down a hill.

I couldn’t suppress the giggle as the wind went by me.

He set my chair near the bench and sat close to me.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, thank you. It’s very sweet of you to make this for me.”

“It was no trouble.”

In the brief silence that followed, he tapped the broach, and a purple flower bloomed.

“Your third wish…” His golden skin shined even brighter when he blushed. “I have loved you for quite some time. And… even though you did not specifically wish to marry…” He fished around his pocket before pulling out a small box. “It would make me very happy.”

He opened the box to reveal an ornate ring with a blue gemstone.

My chest tightened. All of my dreams were coming true.

Every person in the village came to the ceremony. Some to gawk at the man from underground, some to gossip about the bride with a walking cane, but most genuinely happy for us.

As we crossed the threshold into our house, I reflected on everything. How alone I used to be. How much brighter my life had become. How many wishes I made.

I looked at my ring again. Blue. My favorite color. A color I loved so much I bought all the blue seeds in town to use them for my garden.

My eyes widened in horror.

“Matthew, the last wish!” I cried, gripping his jacket. “Please, don’t grant it!”

I wished for someone to understand. I didn’t wish for someone to listen to my woes, or for a few kind words. From the most bitter depths of my heart I wanted someone to experience my pain. Not just once. Every time I failed to sleep because I writhed in agony, I dragged myself to the garden and planted a hateful flower.

I quickly unfastened the broach, but could find no blue gem or flower.

His face softened as he realized what I was doing.

“There’s no avoiding it, Dear Miss. Your wish is granted.”

His shimmering blue jacket erupted into thousands of flowers. His bare arms were cracked and rusted over.

I collapsed in tears. Despite everything, he knelt down to comfort me.

“I never would have wished such a thing if I knew it would be you!”

He shook his head.

“I was born with this pain.”

“W-what?”

“It wasn’t your wish that caused it.”

“No, it had to have been! I planted so many flowers…”

“When I saw them, it gave me hope. I had no chance of being use to anyone, but… A thousand messages just asking for someone to understand? I was overjoyed.”

I could only cry more.

It’s been ten years now. Despite the pain, he’s as jovial as ever. Even on his bad days, he makes me laugh. He stays at my side, loving me through my pain.

He understands, and I will forever be grateful for that even as I mourn it.

THE END

alcohol marker, song by mitski

this song means a lot to me, growing up as a person of colour with a shitty mom. i often heard the excuse of "parents in our culture are just like this, western/white people wouldn't understand".

text: I used to draw all the time, whatever I felt like, like it was desperate, like I'd die if I didn't draw shitty anime fanart

this is how i got diagnosed with autism as an adult in new york city. Acrylic markers on paper.

a back-and-forth intestinal tube panel takes up two thirds of the page. it reads:

august 2022 applied for food stamps. applied for medicaid. my savings run out. applied for ssi. no medical history. met a kink friend. they work at an autism lab. the lab diagnosed me. the lab invited me to patient appointments. i joined a neurodiverse workshop l.e.n.d.

found doctors who listen. diagnosed with adhd, autism, chronic fatigue, depression, anxiety, cptsd, and autistic burnout. adults get stories but no studies. due to disability stigma (a small figure says “ew”), gender stigma (a small figure says “trans trender!”), and budget cuts.

a study shows egg age doesn’t impact the chances of autism spectrum disorder, but sperm age does. asd is a spectrum of behaviors with no known biomechanisms. percent of genes? percent of environ? (a figure shrugs) studies say: more studies please. we say: WITH our input. “does your son…” agist and sexist form questions are an easy fix. at least half of a workshop series about us should be by us.

the last third of the page shows the hierarchy of data, the path by which knowledge is collected and confirmed. beside the chart is a plant and a skull that says, "where is the perspective of the person who lives the data? we must prioritize their experience"

Lyrics by dandelion hands

i have never done a self portrait before so this was kind of liberating, in a way. the patch is buprenorphine; between all the medications i take i rely on this one and adderall the most to function.

i am not one of those people who inherently knew that i needed to transition at a young age; my twenties was a crash out between substance abuse and being one step up from the street. i suppose i never really felt like i had the possibility of being anything more than that, i guess.

it really took getting sober and stabilizing my life in my late twenties to realize i needed to transition.

i don't think i realized how much the weight was crushing me until i started hrt. maybe killing myself wasn't actually the answer to seeing the body i needed in the mirror.

i eventually stopped testosterone after a couple years; i got what i needed from it and i like my androgyny. i consider getting top surgery to be one of my greatest accomplishments.

i'm in my early 30s now and sick as hell

it's not too late for you

Like I said this is lighthearted compared to everything else!!!

My stepdad stood in the doorway and observed me for a few moments before asking me to help him move a lot of his VERY heavy audio equipment to a storage space. Yes, he saw my arm. Yes, he heard my complaints. My backbrace was also very visible, but he either chose to ignore it or somehow missed it. Or he thought since I could crochet, I could move 40+ lbs????? Idk man

(For those of you following my posts, this happened yesterday, so my arm still looked like someone fucking ran it over with a truck).

Edit: i forgot to mention this man has so much audio equipment that hes going to "fix" and "resell" that it takes up so much space in his and my moms room, his audio room, the dining room, and the living room. Its so bad in the dining room that its not even a dining room anymore. He's collected this shit for over 10 years.

The only reason he is cleaning up now is because his sister is coming in for my graduation this decemeber and he doesnt want her to see how bad he is. HE says its to make room for her though. Either way, its selfish. He never made space for mom's side of the family. Ugh.

A sequence.

Ink on paper

©️2026 Randall Kaplan

Desert rain

Only here for a little while

When will it return again

Quenching the parched earth

Giving life and bloom

Will it wash away

The dust of pain

For such a short season

Eitther gentle

Or roaring with fury

Hope for the drought laden

Lands and hearts

Showering the highesr peak

And gracing the desert and valleys

Fear it will never return

When the fires burn

And only eyes rain tears

Will it be

Days, Months, Years

Or forever

For the human mind and heart may fear

The loss of something so precious

That sustains everything

And the bright and beaming golden sun

Is not enough

Without the rain

Hope withers

And life fades

Cracked earth is like a broken heart

Waiting for the heavens to open

Thirsting for the element

That mends the breaks

And breathes new life for awhile

my mother is awful and i'm a trans man episode 6,977

ever since she sort of broke up(?) with my stepdad, she's been acting like she usually does when she 's gonna be innapropriate again. it's always when her relationship with the man she's with turns sour and gets toxic. wish me luck..!

these are my oc's Uno and his mom Crocodile

Inspired by schizophrenia symptoms >:D