Ah, here's one now...
When I was in high school, Richie (not his real name) was involved in an accident on his motorcycle in which a friend of his was killed. It wasn't Richie's fault, but it apparently really screwed with his head. I didn't know him before the accident since he was a couple grades below me, but I heard that it put him into a depression.
It seemed that Mindy and Margaret and some of that crowd knew him somewhat, but his behavior was getting really erratic at one point, and they were starting to avoid him. I don't know if that's the right way to deal with someone with problems (it certainly isn't the most empathetic), but I remember one afternoon when a group of us were in Waffle House for some reason, and Richie's car pulled into the parking lot. They all wanted to clear out of there before he got inside the place and cornered us in an awkward social situation.
By the time we paid and were heading out the door, Richie was coming through it... with green hair. Although the Manic Panic phase came along a few years later, no one was doing the neon hair back then, least of all in green. It was a cry for help more visible than any roadside flare.
"Hey, guys. What's up?" asked Richie. A few people said, "Nothing." They tried to make it sound causal, but when a small crowd of your peers completely stop talking precisely you show up, it's kind of obvious that the last topic of conversation before you arrived was almost certainly you.
We headed to our cars with that kind of quiet guilt no one likes to recall having experienced. I don't remember running into him again after that.
He's into computer games and medieval stuff. Sadly, not much else has changed other than that his experiment with green hair is over, obviously. Richie still lives in the same town and has the same dour expression as he typically wore whenever I saw him years ago.
I know more than anything you want to go back in time and change what happened on that night. There are moments more or (usually) less dramatic than that in everyone's lives that we all wish we could travel back to and revise.
The driver of that truck was to blame, not you, and this was just a case of the wrong place and the wrong time. What you need to do now is to move forward through time before you run out of it.
-A fellow time traveler.
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