With no income and nothing to do at home, I decided to humble myself and seek out different forms of employment. First I applied to other business firms and offices, I even got a few interviews. My skills were impressive, and my resume pristine. But surprise surprise, none of them wanted to hire me. Apparently, despite my five years of experience and impeccable record, there’s always someone more qualified to take the job. I’m sure those qualifications including having legs that worked.

Nevertheless, I didn’t lose hope. I went for small positions, and much lower paying jobs. When one avenue closed, I went down another. So much so that I ended up practically begging someone to hire me. I promised to work weekends and holidays, overtime or part-time. Whatever was needed just to snag the position. Yet in time, I came to see that even my own willingness would fail me. Despite my uncle’s recommendation, I just couldn’t seem to catch a break. After all, with so many normal, healthy people looking for work, who wants to hire a man who needs a wheelchair? No one, that’s who. Before the accident, I used to think life was pretty even for most people. But now I see that things are very different than how I perceived them from within my own perfect little bubble. Life isn’t fair to anyone, but somehow, it’s actually harder for those already at a disadvantage. Where one would expect kindness and understanding, rejection is shown instead. And even though it doesn’t seem right, no one stops to care. The world continues to function without a second thought given to me.

After two months I give up on finding a job completely. Luckily, that didn’t mean I was out of an income, since my application for disability was approved by the state in which I lived. My handicap was what they considered ‘minimal’, so I was only allotted three hundred dollars a month. That was a far fall from the three thousand I used to make back at my old job. Still, it was enough to buy my own stuff and some beer for the weekends.

A few times I tried to contact Jim and some of the other guys from my uncle’s firm, but they never had time to stop by and hang out. I guess I couldn’t blame them. I mean, I probably would have done the same in their situation. It was stupid to expect anything else. It wasn’t like we were best friends or anything. We were just co-workers in the end. Eventually, I ran out of things to shop for and false friends to call, so I started buying more beer. Everything felt better when I was drunk. I even looked for excuses to sit around and drink, only staying sober for therapy days. My parents weren’t happy about the changes, but out of guilt they let me carry on. Or maybe they simply gave up the same as me. Either way, it didn’t matter. What was the point in living in a world without my job, my girlfriend, or me legs? The answer was that there wasn’t. My life was ruined, and there was nothing left but to drink my sorrows away.