When I was younger, before my disease started, holidays were a celebration of family and tradition that brought happiness and warmth.
As I started fighting multiple sclerosis in my early 20s, they then marked a day of hope that maybe by this time next year, I’d be doing a little better.
But the years passed on, like the wind on a bitter day; until holidays became a reminder of how I had struggled the year before, and how I was struggling even more now.
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