Any Man

by Amber Tamblyn

Yes, I understand I will survive this.

I do not tell her that I tried to stop it, because I can’t remember if I did.

I can’t lift my eyes to meet those of the nurses, patients, or doctors as I go. I can feel them. I am a damaged relic leaving the museum for good. I stare at their shoes. Patent leather. Slip-ons. Wedges, I think they call them. Sneakers. Even high heels. All those better, happier feet.

“I can’t stop thinking about what I could’ve done to stop it that night.”

You get to decide when you’re ready. It’s important that I say this, though: It’s not your fault, whatever happened to you. It’s not your fault. But healing your own pain does belong to you now. When we become aware, we become responsible.