I had no identity on the morning of 7 July. To Germaine Lindsay, the bomber, I was anonymous. I was just "the enemy". But the people who risked their lives coming into that tunnel to save us also did so without knowing who any of us were.
Our bodies are capable of so much. I'm in awe of the body, the mind and the spirit. It was as if I'd made a decision that I didn't want to die there, and my body backed me up. I'm still amazed I walked out of hospital three months after the bombings.
I will never recover; when you have something as final as amputation, that's it. But even though I suffered a terrible loss, I'm still me. I lost my legs and about 80 per cent of my blood, but I came back as Gill. The important things are still there.
There'll be no more tunnels for me. I take buses now.
When you begin to appreciate life, everything changes. The volume knob gets turned up. There were days when I could only get water dripped through the top of a cotton-wool bud into my mouth. I remember thinking, "When I finally get a cup of water, I'm going to love it so much."
I have to make this second chance count. I'm so grateful for every day. I've been euphoric since I woke up [from a coma]. Many people expected me to hit the wall, but it hasn't happened and I doubt it will.
People struggle to understand why I don't feel bitter. But the bombers are dead, so they can't ask me for forgiveness. I have a sense of peace within myself.
The political hijacking of the Olympics is sad. It was an honour to be asked to carry the torch alongside some great Olympians.
There is a God. I've always been a deeply religious person. That was really strengthened when my mother died about 16 years ago. Her faith strengthened mine.
I'm not a victim, I'm a survivor.
'One Unknown' (Rodale Books), by Gill Hicks, is available now. Hicks is the organiser of the Walk Talk initiative (www. walktalk.org.uk), which starts on 19 JulyReuse content