You can't move anything. Well maybe your eyeballs. A machine breathes for you. You can't talk. You are vulnerable and alone inside this body that doesn't work anymore. You used to run and laugh and frown and smile. Now you can do none of that. And the thing is you are a baby, as far as adults go.
This is your life now. Completely dependent on others. You must hope those who care for you are having a good day. You are one of the lucky ones, not in a nursing home. I wonder what your life is like. I wonder if you enjoy it. I wonder what you think about all of this.
I have thought of you since that day. Wondering about you. Thinking you didn't deserve this. Once you were a kid full of hope and joy. Then you grew up and drifted toward people who made you feel like they were your family. Then you caught a bullet and here you lie. I wonder what you could have been.
"Hey madness, the guy in bed 3 with the stubbed toe said he needs something for pain."