“I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the accident at South By...

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the accident at South By Southwest a few years back.  A car plowed into a crowd of pedestrians.  Four people died.  Twenty-five were injured.  I was the twenty-fifth.  I broke my back and neck in four places.  The driver was fleeing from the police in a stolen car.  He was twenty-one years old.  His name was Rashad.  A lot of people in my life thought he should get the death penalty.  But I never had strong feelings about it.  Maybe I disconnected from my emotions.  Maybe it’s just my personality.  But I mostly just felt sad that he’s so young and he’ll be in jail for the rest of his life.  Recently I looked up the address of his prison.  I purchased a PO Box.  And I wrote him three letters.  I’ve held onto them for months without sending them.  I guess I’m struggling with the fact that empathy is a privilege.  I’m still alive.  I’m still able to walk.  There are people who lost more than me who might be upset that I’m showing him any compassion at all.  But I find it curious that I know nothing about somebody who had such a profound impact on my life.  All three letters begin the exact same way: ‘We’ve never met, but we were in the same place at the same time.’  I’m not sure what I’m looking for.  I just figure there’s something to be said.  And I’d like to figure out what that is.”