11-11-11

David!

David!

David!

I love you, Joseph. / i

Hey, I can wait out here all day.

Jesus.

Your last book sold 5 million copies.

Surely you could've done better than this.

Glad to see that you're writing again.

Yeah, well there have never been a problem

with that, I write every day.

- So, what is the problem?

- I'm done.

This doesn't look like you're done.

This looks like a bestseller.

That's not even a book. It's personal.

All your writing is personal.

That's why it sells.

I write dime store thrillers,

so spare me the pretense.

You have a legion of followers that would disagree with you.

What's this?

That's none of your concern.

- It's just a diary.

- An autobiography?

It's a diary!

I'm part of this support group,

and now we write about our pain.

You know, your writing is a lot more

important than you may think.

I can't begin to fathom what you must be going through.

I'm fine.

Stop punishing yourself Joe.

You've got to get out of this room.

I miss you.

The day that Sarah and David died,/ i

So did my faith in that there was

some sort of higher power./ i

There's no divine beings and a master architect./ i

Surely no deity could be responsible for so much pain, / i

so much fucking misery./ i

God is dead.

Or maybe he was never alive./ I

All my friends had these, careers,

and I just had a job.

It didn't matter. When I met Henry,

everything changed.

I quit my job ... and I was a wife.

Full time.

I was the most important thing in his life.

He needed me and he was the only family I ever had.

And I was good.

No, I was great.

When he died,

I died too.

I never realized the importance of family,

until the one I had was taken away.

But now, I wake up every morning ...

I write my journal ...

and I know that tomorrow is a new day.

Don't loose those.

High street value and all that.

Yeah.

- You know you're up?

- I don't think that's gonna happen.

- Why not?

- I just don't have very much to say.

You've been coming here for months

and you've not said a thing.

I'm pretty sure you have an encyclopedia

of things to say.

- At least I see you're following the steps.

- Oh yeah.

No it's just ... I don't wanna go in there

and just bore everybody.

My story ends the same as everybody else's,

in Tragedy.

You know for someone so good with words ...

I find it hard to believe you can't find the

right ones to share.

You shouldn't look so surprised.

I read quite a lot you know.

Yeah, sorry.

Hey, um ... seems a bit stupid now, but I read

somewhere that you don't like using computers.

And I saw your tattered notebooks in group, so ...

- I know it's lame.

- Wow, thanks! It's not lame, it's great.

Okay, bye!

Call 911!

Joseph.

Mr. Crone?

Mr. Crone, can you hear me?

- You're one very lucky man.

- Am I?

Yes you are. You are in St. Luke's hospital now.

Mr. Crone, do you remember what happened?

Yeah.

I do not know who your guardian angel is,

but you might consider giving him a raise.

- The other driver?

- He didn't have your luck.

Can I come in?

Sorry, I can leave.

I just didn't know who to call or ....

- There's no one to call.

- Looks like you're gonna need a new watch.

I get to bed every night praying I won't

wake up in the morning.

I pray I walk out of the house and get

struck by lightning.

I pray to a God I know doesn't exist to run me down by car,

and the day it finally happens I walk away

without a scratch.

- It wasn't your time.

- No it is my time, I have no purpose.

You're a famous author, with legions of fans.

Your books inspire millions of people.

- But you have no purpose?

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