I don’t particularly know if I’m ready to write about this all yet. Half the time when people talk about the accident it’s like watching a movie scene, I’m disconnected. But it’s these rare moments when they keep asking questions, when my gut wells up with fear and I begin to feel nauseous, these moments are killing me.
People keep telling me,
“you should see a chiropractor”
“You should see this therapist, she’s a trauma specialist.”
“You should see your primary care physician.”
When I truth, I just want to see him.
This year has been blow after blow, loss after loss. I realized this year that the rules don’t matter a bit in the long run. I’m the most responsible driver I know and-
-some guy with a suspended license is driving in the wrong lane, driving head first into my car.
I’m opening my eyes to the smell of smoke and the flashing orange emergency lights thinking fire.
I’m standing at the side of the road with my face numb, my hands covered in blood, trying to scream for help. Watching car after car drive by.
I’m thinking of him.
I’m laying bruised, unable to move, my face swollen and hideous.
None of it is important because he exists.
Because in the end the rules just don’t matter.