A reason why?
When I was 12, I came very close to going through the windshield of my dad's Bronco. It was the day we moved into our new house (the house my parents still live in), and dad and I were coming back from the video rental store. My parents weren't the kind of people who made us wear seatbelts, because it was the 90s and we all lived like we were already dead. So when we collided with the car that took a poorly-timed turn into our probably-too-fast-because-dad's-a-speeder oncoming path, I kept going 60mph when the truck abruptly stopped. There was a considerable dent in the spider-webbed windshield that proved the force of my impact. I probably should have gone to the hospital. I remember the officer at the scene suggesting it, and I vaguely recall saying I was okay. I've always had a habit of saying I'm okay when I'm not. So we just went home after the information was exchanged, and I likely went to sleep that night with both glass particles in my forehead, and a concussion.
I recently recalled this experience and it dawned on me that maybe slight brain damage explains the way I am now. The darkness that crept in over the following years. That, plus the genetics on mom's side. Maybe I never really had a chance at being what anyone might call normal.