Lack of oxygen at birth. Some people call it a curse.
Neurological damage. Savage.
But I was born to thrive, not just survive.
You've got to be ballsy to have cerebral palsy.
One peak to construct the building blocks of speech.
A flicker of the eye to vocalize.
No. No. No.
I can be louder than you think.
Commitment. Repetition.
My parents' mission was to instill in me the belief to shape the future.
I want to lead.
You've got to be ballsy to have cerebral palsy.
You call me superhuman for running my own race.
Get in my face with your puffed-up praise.
It's hard to slog through school when the normies are cruel.
I'm not the butt of your joke — I'm the Joker, you fools.
You've got to be ballsy to have cerebral palsy.
Being a stranger in my own body isn't new to me.
The shape-shifting changes, the [] pains,
the bloodbath stains — this teenage [] is tame to me.
I don't spend my time looking for "the one."
I'm up for a bit of fun.
Bet you didn't expect that from me.
If you call me an inspiration,
don't act so surprised when I exceed your flatline expectations.
You've got to be ballsy to have cerebral palsy.
Millions of us — no one the same.
CP is part of our identity.
It doesn't tell the whole story.
It reminds us of how the world ought to be —
a home we're going to build.
So, how about you?
Have you got the spine to join this fight?
