A thousand miles a week, and none of them have killed me yet.

Each time I see a bad accident on the highway, I can't help but remind myself that with just one slip, that could have been my broken body in that crumpled ball of tin foil that used to be a car, and how close I've actually come to being in that situation in the past. While I find it's best not to dwell on that sort of thing, it's certainly something to keep the sense of self-preservation going. Keeping myself alive is the easy part. Figuring out the reason why seems almost impossible. But it's there somewhere waiting to be found, and I get the feeling that when I find it, it'll be worth it.