A one-time school project gone terribly, terribly wrong.

06 March 2004

There are no resources for people in my situation.

I phoned the hospital where the pedestrian (Jennifer--how reluctant I am to type her name, like naming her somehow makes. . .oh I don't know) was taken following the accident, for about the fifth time.

I asked how she was and was told she was okay, basically. I suddenly found myself seized with a compulsion to visit her. But what would I say? And what about the legalities? I mean I can't exactly turn up at her bedside clutching a bouquet of flowers and say "I'm so sorry this happened, but it was your own fault. . ."

Do people do this? After accidents do drivers visit the injured unless they know them? Is it reasonable to drop by with a stupid teddy bear and a get well card?

And where the hell would I find this sort of information?

That's easy--phone a lawyer.

But I've refrained from calling one. It seems to me that since no-one has so far brandished a lawyer in my direction, and since the police found me sufficiently innocent not to charge me with anything, that producing an attorney would be either an insult or some indication of guilt. So I've decided to avoid the legal hacks unless and until they become necessary. Calling one now would be like calling in an army to issue a traffic ticket.
The innocent have nothing to fear, right?

Or maybe not. Sometimes right now I'm not entirely certain of the reliability of my own thoughts.

Besides, a lawyer would almost certainly advise against visiting. The less contact the better, the less chance you'll say something that might be misinterpreted as admitting culpability.

The point is that there just aren't any professional people besides psychiatrists and lawyers available to talk to about this. One is forced to lean on family and friends. And while I do have friends the emphasis has always been on quality rather than quantity. My family, on the other hand, has more-or-less rallied round. I spoke to both my sibs yesterday. My folks are overseas at the mo'.

My significant other (SO) has been a great comfort to me, with all sorts of support.

I suppose that you, O Avid Fan, are also a splinter of support at this time. You may or may not read this, but I can vent in your general direction as though you did.

My train of thought is eroding deep trails across my mindscape. I think I'm depressed (it's somehting I've encountered before) but can't tell yet. I'll talk to someone soon; a professional. Headshrinkers may have it all wrong, but in this case it's probably a good move.

The car sits outside my window.


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