Okay. Journaling is supposed to be better than drinking, so here I am, writing this crap down because I don’t know what else to do with it.

On the way to that clinic there’s this little road between those damn pine trees, pedestrian zone and all, and it was empty when I turned in. Then out of nowhere this kid… like, barely 17 or 18 with a delivery backpack , just slams full-speed into the side of my car on his bike. He hit it so damn hard that even my half-deaf ears caught that thud.

He goes down hard. And instead of yelling at me or checking himself, he just… gets up. Picks up the bike. Starts walking off like nothing happened.

I pull ahead, park, go after him. He’s limping, not even looking back. I have to physically stop him because he won’t respond to anything I’m saying.

And when he finally looks at me, his eyes are just gone. Like nobody’s home.

I shake him a bit to get him to snap out of it, and the kid suddenly starts crying. No sound, just his face twisting like everything hurts at once.

Next thing I know he’s grabbing onto me, and I’m standing there like a dumbass holding him because I don’t know what the fuck else to do. Shock, head injury. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.

I get him to that clinic. They check him over. Nothing broken. Just bruises, scrapes He won’t tell me anything. Barely talks. Just nods or shrugs.

So I transfer him roughly what he probably earns in a month, give him my number, drive him home.

Did what I could. Doesn’t matter. That fucking awful feeling in my chest hasn’t gone anywhere.

And then there’s her. Always finding a way to get in my head. Taking cheap shots through my sister. Twisting things just enough so I’m pacing the room like an idiot.

Damn. Enough. Just breathe.

Funny though.

I skipped the appointment. Maybe I don’t need to figure out what the hell’s wrong with my lungs after all. The cough’s finally backing off anyway.