The The biggest question mark I have about the whole year is about the driver, the driver of the car that killed Alicia that night.

I can't move past it because I can't get the beats right in my head.

I'm a writer, I'm a storyteller.

And the missing part is, I don't know how to name this person who was driving the car.

What is he? Is he a killer? Is he a victim? Is he an innocent bystander? How would the law name him? It feels overly

forgiving and falsely altruistic to call him a victim. It feels damning. It feels like a

goddamn witch hunt to call him a murderer. He's not a bystander exactly because he too was injured and he's not my friend he's not even

an acquaintance like I've made up who he was in my head I tell myself he must be such a thoughtful and emotionally and touched

adult because of what he went through at that time.

I tell myself he must have gone to therapy and talked to someone about how he feels the whole community hated him after that and he must

have become a spiritual person, you know, who got in touch with something immaterial to help him explain to himself why he was chosen

to be the driver in a car that killed someone that everybody loved. And he must have atoned in some way for what he did

and I told myself be mature like it's not about you it's not your shit you're not

Alicia you're not dead from this you're not Alicia's parents you're not dead from this.

You're not Alicia's parents, you're not her sister.

I've told myself a million different things

to try to just rush past the only honest thing, which is that I am angry at this person.

And if you're asking yourself, why are we bleeping this person's name out?

It's not really to protect him.

I think on some level is to protect me.

Because I am still hurt.

I am still sad.

...