PTSD. Never thought four letters would change my life so much. Oct 2, 2013 was the date. A gentleman had apparently enough of life and decided it was his time to die. He was on foot and I was on motorcycle. For the moment. I don't remember a thing until about two months later. My wife was there when I woke up. Was in a coma. She told me I had a wreck. In the hospital for two months. Finally... Home. Wasn't myself though. I joke , but in alot of ways I lost my marbles. Wasn't the same guy. Six months later, I'm looking for work, sure I'll be OK. I wasn't. Used to be a chef. That part of me died that day, I'm afraid. Now, I'm just scared. Of the future. Of tomorrow. Of failing again. Of what's around the bend. All I can do is hold onto my family and hope. Just hope.