I have a sadface today.

I've been thinking a lot about my hand these past couple of weeks, and how much it has stopped me from achieving things in life. It's made me stay on the sidelines instead of leading the pack. It has made me afraid of being who I am pretty sure I could be.

Though I am often held back by it, I think it has made me more of a fighter. I've had to struggle for things in life. For the small things. And the big things.

When I was a kid the playgrounds were all about the big scary climbing wall. You've all seen it. When we look at it now, we laugh and wonder why we ever thought it was so important to reach the top. But it was something we had to fight for. Some of us never got past the first step. Some of us got caught in the middle and some of us reached the top.

Mom used to say that it didn't matter if I reached the top. And to her it didn't. She still loved me. But I think I had to prove to myself, and everybody else, that I could. I could climb that wall, hand or no hand.

And I did. I climbed. And I won.

It was a great accomplishment for me. These days things are harder.

I've always been taught by my parents never to be ashamed of my dysmelia, and that I don't need to hide it. I haven't, but it's still always on my mind and subconsciously, it scares me. I am afraid.

I admit it. Because of this, I have given up things in life. I've been hiding. I've stepped off the ledge when all I should have done was to jump out and hope that my wings will carry me. But I haven't. Maybe I will soon. I've already started to trust and believe in myself more this last couple of years.

But I am only jumping a few feet. Nothing more.

I know my handicap is very simple, and I am lucky. I've got my wrist left, something I have had so much use of. I don't feel lucky most of the time though. I feel angry and sad. This isn't easy, and no one really deserves this.

This is such a depressing post, but I just need to get it out every other month or so. Usually I keep it all inside, until I burst out into a fit of tears.

I guess I just hate it sometimes. I hate it so much

2010, or as I like to call it, 7625.

To be honest, dear readers, I really don't know why there is such a big excitement about the new year. We're just celebrating a random amount of years.

If you're Christian and think that I am just a big bowl of evil at the moment, even you have to agree with that Jesus was not born 2010 years ago. The count started a long time after he died. So why is this number so great?

What is so special about 2010? It's not as if we celebrate the birth of earth. That happened many, many billions years ago. We're not celebrating the birth if home sapiens.

We are celebrating a random year. If you want to start your own, this might as well be year 52. Or 5691. It's up to you.

What many also fail to remember is that this new year isn't for all. The Chinese for example, their new year starts in february.

So, I have no point with this post. I just don't understand it.

Sarah,