I thought I was doing everything right. I was cautious of the pouring rain. I safely approached the intersection. I checked my mirrors for other drivers. I waited for a green light to give me the right away. I thought I was completely aware of my surroundings. I just didn’t see it coming.

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I thought I was doing everything right. I made him smile when he tried to refuse. I was quiet and patiently listened, even when I wanted to talk. I was encouraging when he could not find the strength. I did everything for him. I didn’t need to look for a sign to tell me what to do. I thought I knew him. I just didn’t see it coming.

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I only caught a slight glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. The car came barreling down the hill, its horn blasting a screech of anxiety, shouting at me to get out of the way. Already halfway through the intersection, I knew what was happening next. I have never hit the gas pedal so hard. I thought I could save myself. 

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There was only a single text message. The grey bubble encompassing my whole phone screen. A sea of destructive words, beginning with the worst of all, “I’m sorry”. I didn’t need to read it, I knew what it was going to say. Instead, I rapidly call him back, praying for him to change his mind. I have never texted him so fast. I thought I could save myself.

But I couldn’t save anything. I once felt completely in control, like I had the world in the palm of my hand and I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it. Then within thirty seconds I suddenly realized that the world wasn’t in the palm of my hand. I looked for remnants of what once was there, the happiness and simplicity of life. But my palm was empty, and my once steady hand was now trembling in fear.

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The car struck and he broke my heart. Both occasions left me feeling broken, like the glass of a mirror shattering into a million little pieces. 

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If only I had done things differently, then none of this would have happened. I should have looked out for other cars more often. I should have supported him more. I should have turned faster. I should have respected his space. I should have been a better partner, a better driver, a better person.

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Why wasn’t I better?

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The last thing I remember from the accident is the sound of a car horn blasting. There is a voice in my head that sounds exactly like that horn. Constantly screaming at me to be better, the voice believes there is always something I could have done and should have done, to fix myself. It doesn’t matter whether I can control the situation or the reasoning behind my actions. It will always flood my head with a million interrogating questions, like the rising waters of a sink that's about to overflow, leaving me to drown in my own thoughts.

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All I wish for is for the car horn to silence.

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