Just so very angry

I'm trapped. Somewhere inside this bloated, hobbling, dysfunctional
body is me. The real me is still in here. I'm the same person I was 10
years ago. 20 years ago. That guy is still here. I'm still here. You
can still talk to me, though sometimes I stutter a bit and often
forget words.

Please don't look at me funny. Please don't talk down to me like
you're talking to a child. Please don't throw out my ideas simply
because they come from this broken frame.