In any way. I just don’t like pain.

I had a non-consensual scene late Friday night. Someone hit me and left before I could tell them how not-cool it was.

And it hurt!

A LOT.

A LOT LOT.

This was not their first time, either. They had hit another young lady without her permission right before me, and left her as well.

Asshole.

So, what happened was…

I and Selene were the victims of a hit-and-run late Friday night.

A white car on I-40 was speeding in the right hand lane, and cut into the middle lane, clipping a yellow GT, and sending the young lady inside out of control.

They continued over into our lane (left), eventually sideswiping us and sending us into the 4-foot concrete divider, and continuing on their merry way, while Selene fought to keep the car from flipping or going over the median into oncoming traffic, eventually bringing us as safely as possible to a stop with three wheels off the ground.

My convertible is totaled. No surprise. We hit the median at 75mph, were airborne, and came down hard. Everything is in the wrong place.

We are battered and sore. Air-bag-beaten. Bruised. Seat belt friction burned. Hurting.

Alive.

And the shoes I bought myself for my birthday this year have not a mark on them.

I’m glad to be alive.

I mean that. When it was happening, I was not sure we were going to make it, that we weren’t going to end up on the other side of the highway, that we were going to get to say “I love you,” again to the people that matter.

Anyway, if I haven’t told you that I appreciate you lately, please know I do. Even if I don’t know you. Even if you have a hate-boner for me. I appreciate you reading what I write, and adding more to my life, and being you.

And I hurt.

And I’m not a masochist, damnit!