I Can’t

I can’t write. I can barely string two sentences together coherently.

I can’t paint, or draw, or garden.

I can’t run. Can’t motivate myself to exercise.

I love my children, but I can’t create a scrapbook or journal or photo album for them.

I can’t state an opinion without assuming it will be shot down. My brain can’t wrap itself around an argument.

I have no idea how to program most electronics, nor any desire to learn, and leave it to Shane.

I can’t do anything with my hair except keep it clean and neat.

I can’t apply eyeshadow.

I read other people’s stories, but cannot create my own.


2 responses to “I Can’t

  1. My mother would tell you, in her best teacher voice, that while that’s nice, now she’d like to hear about all the things you CAN do.

    Here, I will start your list for you: You CAN land a husband like Shane, who can program the electronics you can’t program.

  2. You can’t stop people from really liking and admiring you.

    You can’t be unkind.

    You can’t sit by and not help to clean up and put things away, one of the first things I noticed about you, which makes you an excellent friend.

    You can’t be any more of a lovely person than you already are.

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