Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Keane
Day Thirty
One month.
Keane, I’m proud of you. Somehow, you made it. Life isn’t exactly better—it’s still a mess, and some days it feels like dragging yourself through quicksand. But you didn’t quit. This time, you stayed. No running, no Philly to lean on, and no one to pick up the broken pieces but you. It’s terrifying and freeing all at once, like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if you’ll fly or fall.
It blows my mind now, looking back, how much I leaned on her. How much of myself I handed over without realizing it, hoping she’d fix me, heal me, make me whole. Philly was everything—too much, really. Too much of my life, too much of my identity, and I let her carry it all because I was too scared to hold it myself.
But that’s done now. This time, it’s on me. Every bad day, every doubt, every step forward and backward—it’s mine to own. The accident doesn’t define me. The injuries don’t define me. Not anymore. I repeat that to myself like a mantra every morning. I’m here to figure out who I am beyond the pain, beyond the failure, and beyond the broken pieces I used to hand off to someone else. It won’t happen today, and it probably won’t happen tomorrow, but I have to believe it will.
And Philly. God, Philly. I don’t know how to stop thinking about her. She’s everywhere—in my mind, in the spaces she used to fill, in the echoes of her voice telling me I could be more than this. I keep replaying it, wondering if she was right or if she just wanted me to believe it because she couldn’t admit how much I’d already failed her.
There’s this message I’ve been drafting in my head—words I’ll probably never send but can’t stop shaping anyway. What would I even say? That I’m sorry? That I miss her? That I’m finally trying to be the man she saw in me? Would it matter? Would it fix anything?
Note to self: Stop overthinking. Focus on the reason you’re here—to find yourself, not her forgiveness.
Note two: If you ever do send that message, make damn sure it’s the truth and not just an excuse to hold onto something you’ve already lost.