THE FIRST THING they spent time establishing once my body was taken away was whether or not I ran into that truck on purpose.
I know the truth, but it’s more complicated than a “No”.
You see, I have been suicidal at various points in my life for most of my life for much of my memory.
But I did not try to die that day. But I want to have tried that day.
Instead I have coped with the reality that I wish I had died, that I want to retroactively try, and the knowledge that in its retroactive state I acknowledge I failed.
I am a shell containing 8 years of broken wishes, 17 years of grief and regret, and too few years of hope.
No one acknowledges for me the devastation of limbo between almost dead and almost alive.