It’s only by a profound fucking act of divine grace or mercy that you haven’t died alone in one of those hospital rooms just like the way you lived your life.
And you got to feel the sun shine on your face a few more times instead of being wheeled out of there under a sheet.
Just like all those other times you never should have made it through the night.
Unless that’s actually happened and the universe simply doesn’t have the heart to let me know that I didn’t make it after all.
Do we just keep forking off into alternate realities where we did and didn’t, until we accept it?
The worst time I had was convulsing in that jail cell.
My eyes were rolling in the back of my head when they fingerprinted me. I’d thought I’d died at some point in an observation cell that morning. But I heard the meeting bell from my home group clanging and it roused me.
Nothing else had worked, but somebody had thought to bring it to me and ring the god damned thing over and over and over again to wake me up.
And you were there, and you were there, and you were there.
Daniel was holding me and crying and saying you dumb fuck, you scared me, don’t ever do that to me again.
But it was just a dream.
I came to in a puddle of snot and tears and puke and an incredible amount of pain. It was still just a cell and they were all gone.
I was incredibly cold and the magistrate was asking if I knew where I was.