by Megan on November 8, 2008
The fog is thick tonight. It rained for the majority of today (yesterday, now) causing the road to be slick.
My 16-year-old brother-in-law was in an accident.
Things are really put into perspective when Life smacks you right in the face. He’s okay, my brother-in-law, Jared. The roads were/are wet, and he over-corrected causing him to go sideways into a guardrail. It could have been worse, I know. I really can’t give a good description of what happened because I wasn’t there. However, Josh was close behind him, and when my mother-in-law called him telling him Jared had wrecked, he was, needless to say, scared. My mother-in-law was too, though when she found out he was okay and that there was minimal damage, her fear turned to anger. That bothered me, slightly.
I have a friend; she’s my age: nineteen–her name is Danielle. I’m not sure of the exact date of her accident–it happened before we met. I think she was sixteen or seventeen at the time. She had skipped school, I think I remember her telling me. I believe she even said it had been raining. She wrecked. Hit a tree, if I remember correctly. She was thrown from her car and the car flipped and landed on top of her. She doesn’t remember much aside from being taken away in an ambulance and she couldn’t feel her legs. Her back was broken. After the accident, she had to wear a brace, and now, she is fine, aside from the occasional back pain.
Mid-December 2007 came along; Danielle’s younger sister Heather (who was seventeen at the time) was driving home from her boyfriend’s house. The roads were wet. Heather lost control of her vehicle and an oncoming truck hit her. She had to be rushed to the emergency room. Danielle called me, asking me if I had heard. I hadn’t, so Danielle filled me in. Heather’s brain was filling with fluid and she hadn’t woken up. This seventeen-year-old girl hadn’t woken up. She was on life support, and the doctors eventually pronounced her brain dead, giving the family a number of hours to take her off life support. And so they did. Her organs were donated (it was what she had wanted, since her mother once had an organ donated to her that saved her life).
My point in all of this is: I’m sure Danielle’s and Heather’s parents wish they had the choice to either be angry with their daughters (for maybe driving a little too fast or not paying enough attention) or to just be glad they were okay. They didn’t get that choice with Heather. Being angry with her would have meant that she would still be here. But they didn’t get to choose.
I wish my mother-in-law could have heard my thoughts when I heard the anger in her voice. Maybe he was driving a little too fast. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he just didn’t drive with as much caution as he should have.Be glad that he is alive. Be glad it wasn’t worse. Honestly, it could have been much worse. But by some miracle, it wasn’t. There are just a few minor dings on his car. Cars are replaceable. Lives aren’t.
by Megan on November 7, 2008
No, I’ve not fallen off the face of the earth. I have, however, had writer’s block for quite some time. I’ve been posting “a look at the past posts” to get through it, but they’re not packing that much punch, I suppose.
A lot has happened since I last typed. We elected a new president, Barack Obama. It was amazing. I was in awe. The morning of the election, I woke up and made my way to my local voting polls, and I voted. It was the first time I had ever voted, since I’m only nineteen. I registered on my eighteenth birthday, and I had been looking forward to the ’08 election. At first, I was a little unsure about my decision, but after a few months of reading up on the issues and really looking at both candidates, I decided that I wanted Obama to be my next president.
I have nothing against McCain (though I really don’t think Palin was the right fit at all); I just agreed more with Obama, and he seemed/seems much more laid back and down to earth–qualities I admire. As I was watching the result Tuesday night, I became overwhelmingly excited. When Obama took Ohio, I became filled with hope. When I saw a picture of Obama on abcnews.com with the words “Mr. President” underneath, I cried. I admit it. Suddenly, I was a part of something huge. One little vote, my little vote.
I think this was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. It was bigger than New Year’s. It was bigger than the Olympics. People around the entire world were celebrating. For us. For our new president. In that single moment, the world came together, and I felt uplifted.
I watched McCain’s speech afterward; it was an admirable speech. He seems like a great man, and he could have been a great president, but I don’t think he was the right fit for right now. Obama’s speech was truly phenomenal and inspiring. I went to sleep that night in a complete daze. History was made. And I witnessed it. I was a part of it.
Barack Obama will make mistakes, I’m sure. He’s only human. Hopefully, he won’t make too many, though. Hopefully, he will be a good president. I have faith that our country will turn around. Maybe not completely, but somewhat. And that’s a start. That’s really all we need: a start.
by Megan on November 1, 2008
November 6, 2006 — age seventeen
(part of a look at the past)
everything is staring at me. everything. laughing, attacking. death is breathing down my throat, i can feel him. i want to scream, yet i’m unable to. i can hardly breathe. it’s too cold, and i’m shivering. freezing. won’t someone save me? where’d they all go? to dance with life, i want to dance. hold my hand, save me. i’m falling under, and i keep getting deeper. i thought i was going back up, but it was my mind tricking myself again. far away, too far to touch. i wonder how much it would take. i can’t stop the tears; they’re so silent, yet so loud. the lights make my head throb with pain. i’m keeping it dark, but the lights are spilling in through the cracks, catching my eye. why is death suddenly so appealing? i honestly don’t want to die, but i feel it’s the only way to live.
i wish i were able to sleep for days, but i’m wide awake. my thoughts are torturing me, blinding me. i don’t ever want to stop writing. maybe if i write, it will all disappear. i’ve been trying all day. i think. i can’t remember.
i feel like i need to throw up my insides. every last one. these words aren’t helping.
