Never Enough Light in the World - Letter #6 to Channel 7 News

Sometimes when I see myself in the mirror it's as if I am transparent. I can't really tell if its just numbness or a high tolerance for pain. My smile, my happiness. It's like filler material I've scraped from the depths of my soul and smeared on my face.

Last week I got into a car accident (unreported of course). This is the fifth accident in two years. I've never hit anyone with my car - I've always been hit. I could see it coming too. I didn't even get excited. I watched the car hit me from behind in my rear view mirror in slow motion madness. I jerked forward and was slammed back and god-awful pain shot through my body like heroin. It felt like liquid silver cotton. And it felt good and numb and my head was throbbing and my vision was cloudy. And I tasted lipstick or some cosmetic craziness in my mouth. It made no sense at all, but at that moment - I wished the pain was greater. I hoped to clarify the pain, to feel it with extreme sensitivity. No broken neck. No bones shattered and jutting haphazardly out of my arms or legs. Just a small irritating throb in the back of my neck. My head wasn't smashed into the windshield and no glass was sticking out of my face.

Every single accident I've been in I have walked away from. Isn't that amazing. I've thought of ramming my car into a light pole at 70 mph to see if I'd fly through the window on impact. I've thought of trying to lose control of my car at 120 mph in the desert just to see how many times I could roll. I'd love to go screaming off a cliff just to see, just to feel the crash and bending of metal around me.

Every time I get on a plane I have accepted the fact that we could crash down, a broken bird, circling and spinning, and ripping apart, and the cabin throwing people and carts and baggage, and metal slamming into my head and my body being violently thrown, tumbling into infinity, into the numb flow of tragedy and Ecstasy.

Just a few thoughts.