DISOWNING   I hate it I don’t want to talk about it I am ashamed I don’t want people to know that I am broken. I am less valuable than someone who is whole You cannot see that I am disabled I hope that, if I pretend hard enough, you will accept me as disabled (despite looking whole) I hope you know and I hope you don’t know that I am mouldy under my skin, that I am unfit for consumption.   OWNING   Why is it great to be broken? Why is it great to be sick? Why should we seek imperfection? If something cannot function, it can no longer be defined by it’s function. it may be scraped, disposed of, forgotten. But it’s now free to define itself – outside of the narrow, utilitarian definition it was previously given. it may need to redefine itself from within the scrap heap or the bin, but it can do it. The rotten apple is no longer washed, packaged and sold for consumption, like it’s perfect brethren. The rotten apple is free to reveal and revel in it’s own self, it’s own brokenness, it’s own mould.


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