For Katie :
My name is Melinda and, I too, am the champion of being hit by a truck! My story began like yours, but without the bike. I too had was ignoring all signs that were in BOLD ITALIC AND UNDERLINED to "Stay home dumbass!" I too fought with my husband the night before. He still tells me how much he regretted that. Then, walking in the crosswalk under the impression the large garage truck on my left was going straight...BAM! I was hit from from behind, spun around, thrown down, hit by the front wheels, then wedged under the back while being dragged for twenty feet only to then have the wheels stop on top of me, go forward and then back over me. I thought I was going to be able to just stand up and walk to my moms house (who was the next block over) and take a nap on her couch. Then, once that pain hit, my lungs filled with blood, both punctured by my rib cage which had shattered into over forty peices, I couldn't breath. I was all..."WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!? I can't breath??? I have to buy milk! I don't have time for this crap."
Anyway, I could go on...but I don't want to steal your thunder. I want to read your book, I want you to read mine!
Katie, you and me, we can kick ass! Then scream at the top of our lungs,
"FUCK THOSE TRUCKS!"
Seriously, it feels so good to yell at random trucks. You and I both know we can smile, make light of our shitty situations, but sometimes we need to close the door and fall into the darkness. We need to sob. Then, get up, wipe the snot from our nose and the drool from our chins, and get back to being the rays of sunshine a we are.
Shine on my crushed sister. Shine on.