“There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophies.” ~Friedrich Nietzche   Parked in a dimly lit garage in the middle of the city at around 7pm, I sat in the driver’s seat, seatbelt still on, texting two different male acquaintances who had expressed sexual interest in me. “What are you up to tonight?” Waiting for a response back, I checked my phone every few minutes. The resounding emptiness in me that craved to be filled felt like it was growing deeper. After some time of getting immersed in social media, I receive a response back: an invitation from one man to come over to his house for dinner not too far away. That night, I ended up drinking several glasses of wine too many, engaging intimately with the man beyond my intention and consent, and feeling emptier than before as I left his apartment in the morning. Despite the gaping presence I felt inside, I was able to distract myself. I was a woman in her early twenties with a stable, corporate job. I also had a part-time job that got me out, socializing and exploring the city. I was doing something with my life and I was just having a good time. When my mother expressed some resistance to my social life because I wasn’t spending much time with my family, I responded to her feelings with agitation and dismissal; there she was again, being overly sensitive and ruining my fun. Two days later, I had a fully booked day of hot yoga at 5am, a full day at the office, then an hour-long drive to the city for an evening celebration for my part-time job. That night, after receiving and celebrating a promotion to a senior position on my part-time team, I began a drive back to the suburbs just past midnight only to wake up to the winds of a cold, lonely highway. It was Wednesday morning at 1am when I fell asleep at the wheel while driving the long stretch between the city and the suburbs. I awoke to a dramatic and jolting swerve, into a bush grazing the windshield at first, and then within a blink, shattered glass and metal crashed into highway 280’s center divide. Shocked with the sight of stark headlights on cement, smoke rising, and a deflated airbag that had just slapped me in the face, I thought, “Was this a dream? Please let it be a dream.” A few speeding cars left me behind in a body ridden with shock, invisible and alone on the interstate. In deep dread and fear at the realization that it wasn’t a dream, I lifted my leg in throbbing agony; heavy, deadweight of broken bone. I looked down to see orange toenails of a swollen foot hanging dementedly, disconnected from my leg. The police officer that found me came by to peek into my car through the wreckage, flashlight blinding as it pointed at my squinting eyes [...]