This has some potential, perhaps a more active voice is needed...
Start Fiction:
I have never really felt free. I was stuck in this house, in my bed, often unable to enjoy a warm spring day or a cool fall morning, due to one health reason or another. Often, I couldn't even enjoy a relaxing meal or sit in the parlor and visit with family.
My bedroom was my world; my window a ever changing painting of a landscape that may as well be another planet. I often wondered much about the way things looked, if they were as such or if my mind was as defective as my body. I tried not to dwell on the latter, however, I felt the state of my mind was not far behind the state of my body. I was certainly headed for insanity, and sooner more so than later as my health seemed to be fading quicker the closer I approached twentieth birthday; not that I expect to see another birthday, mind you.
Tortured? Perhaps, but I have known no difference, thus I can not say with any degree of certainty that my poor health is worse than any others health. I have a nurse who treats me well, tends to my every need, siblings who are kind and gentle with me when they visit each day and parents who try to keep my mental abilities sharp with books and conversation.
I am loved, not because I am ill, rather because of me. And for that, I know I am quite fortunate and thankful as I sense the reaper approaching, bound to make his appearance within days.
End Fiction.
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