for all of the years
a twisted interpretation told from the only perspective I know

I was irresponsible. I would never take the simple final step toward committal. I could do ok, time again, but when tested for excellence, I would fail every time. I was never give all I could toward rehabilitation. I could see your way, and that it was right, and that it was the answer. I could do it, but I refused for my own agenda. If only you could have made me feel a little less significant, I could have been healed.

I lied about the injury. It was staged in order to get sympathy. Tipped the driver and the lawnmowerman, and painted a believable scene. This is why there is nothing wrong with me. There never was an impact. The blood was pigs' blood the high school was using in some event. I made it all up and I am healed! He he ha ha ho ho!

There were three of us sitting at the table. I knew well enough to stay quiet to begin with. The two of them went back and forth hoping to snag each other with a minor misstep in their patterns of negotiation. It was a discouraging mess. As I waited for them to reach some conclusion, what I witnessed destroyed all lofty impressions I had previously had. They were less than us, and only had any power when we had none.

It's too complicated - That's the answer of why has it taken 44 years to gain what understanding we have. It's damage, like a broken bone, but so complex we may be talking about millions of little broken brain starts and ends, passageways and cells, each with a hundred million properties for damaging. It's beyond our technology to repair the brain in this sense, and the best we can do in many cases is to hope to not prevent it from repairing itself.