The road was slippery, I know. Probably from all the stuff you puked up on the road from drinking at that party you went to with me. It wasn’t your fault that you were incapable of driving in such a drunken state. I mean, it was completely my fault when you decided to consume a six-pack of Budweiser because of the girl sitting next to you. She did have a rather revealing outfit on that night, so I don’t blame you. You had to go for it when she said she would give you a little surprise if you drank all that beer. No problem, not even the fact that I was your girlfriend at the moment. No, we all forget things, so it’s okay. And I must have said something to the guy who got in a fight with you, because you weren’t doing anything too bad, except that the girl who wanted to give you a surprise was that guy’s girlfriend. So really, it’s evident that all of this is my fault. Even though you were the one driving and you crossed the red light and this other car came crashing into us and caused me to be in this coma, it’s alright because I’m the one to blame. I just wanted to tell you all of this, though I can’t, because you’re looking at me like you’re going to kill yourself, and please don’t. I am so sorry for all the problems I have caused you. And, again, I can’t tell you this, but I love you.