Any input por favor?
I am not posting this story to be pretentious. I just really want some input on this. If it sucks, then tell me it sucks, if there are things you like, then let me know. I just want to keep improving on this:
“We barely remember what came before this precious moment,
Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in
This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion.”
The drivers-side door made a perfect obtuse angle as the combination of metal and plastic replaced the left side of my ribcage. I was told that a Volvo was the safest car to buy. With all of the steel rods interlaced throughout the doors, you had a much higher chance of avoiding injury in a crash. Guess they didn’t count on a Ford F-350 careening into your lane at 75 miles per hour. I don’t think he was drunk for the one and a half seconds his face came into view.
I remember drunk. Dad always started the day with at least two beers. He said it helped him relax and have the patience to take the day head on. I remember that slightly glazed look in his eyes as he stumbled around looking for his keys. He never hit mom or me or yell at us or basically do anything you would expect from an alcoholic. He just saw it as his way of coping with the everyday hassles from driving forty minutes to work in gridlock traffic to being yelled at by his department supervisor, his head supervisor, his head of the department, and his assistant manager. All making sure he realized that the what’s-it-called form was ALWAYS included with the so-and-so form and that a duplicate was sent to each of his supervisors and managers. He was very good about hiding his inebriation.
Shards of glass splintered my left eye as I tried to shield my face. I wasn’t sure if it hurt more to close that eye and push the shards in farther or keep it open as the rampant wind blew fresh one’s in. A lighter red dribbled down my face as my body was thrown to the right. Dad wasn’t a bad person. He was just scared to find something better. To step outside of the enclosure and just see what is out there. It was easier for him to just drink until every negative thing was temporarily erased. I hated him for it. We all need some form of escape but he never wanted to deal with anything. I raised my right eye up as two headlights began to move closer and closer. The seatbelt caught as I finally stopped jerking to the right and nestled me back against the leather seat. I think it was a red car but it was kind of hard to tell. I just felt the impact. I would guess they were going a little bit slower than the truck but not by much. My head snapped forward as my face contacted with the windshield. I could feel each and every little laceration as I was lifted up and through. I felt the past reopen.
They said I would need at least thirty stitches. I swore once I was out of the hospital I would get Brad back for knocking me into that mailbox. My skin burned as they wove the needle in and out of my forehead. I would swear my ribs had cracked on the mailbox post but the doctors assured me they were simply bruised. The gravel did the most damage. I wasn’t sure if the sewing needle in my forehead hurt worse than having to remove the gravel and disinfect half of my face. I tried to look up but all I could see was the cheap white linen cloth covering my eyes. Dad was holding my hand through it all but his cold perspiration and shaky movements told me about what he did before he came here.
After the doctor snipped the last thread, he told me, “Your ribs will heal fairly rapidly but you’ll have to take it easy for awhile. Just keep the horseplay down to a minimum these next couple of weeks.”
I didn’t care about the ribs.
“How long will it take for the scar to disappear?” I asked.
“Well, it will never really disappear. In the coming months it will begin to fade and not be as noticeable.”
I ran my finger over the slick crevices that were now imprinted on the left side of my forehead. I didn’t know who I wanted to hurt more, Brad for putting me here, or the doctor for leaving me this way.
It’s hard to really notice the beauty of Connecticut at night. The blossoming green shrubbery looks pale and listless in the shadows. The street lamps cast an eerie glow around each turn of the semi-deserted street. Even the waves and crashes of the ocean appear more menacing bathed only in the moonlight. The radio droned on as I contemplated going home or staying at Jessie’s house tonight. I could see the headlights approaching faster by the second. The truck began to move into the other lane on this two-way road. The curve ahead was illuminated by a sole street lamp. I could barely see the man inside as the truck blurred past me. I could see two new headlights behind me as I veered to the right a bit to avoid getting clipped. Then came the headlights in front of me.
I knew I shouldn’t have run from him, but like always, I did. I don’t know why I yell at him but it just makes me feel better. Even when I can see his heart breaking. I darted out the front door and jumped in my car
I could hear his brake pads grind as he tried to stop. The Mazda Protégé in front of him swerved off of the road but he didn’t seem to notice. He pulled to the right to avoid the car that wasn’t there. My car angled to the right as the truck plowed into my door.
After feeling even more of my ribs shatter from the seatbelts constrictiveness, I slowly unbuckled it and edged towards the passenger door. I was in mid-reach for the door handle as the Toyota Camry contacted with me. I was lifted from the seat and descended through the wall of glass.
I felt like I was six again. Just rolling along those sandy beaches, not worrying about running into anyone, but just enjoying how it felt between my fingers and toes. I must have flown at least twenty feet from my car since it looked so far away. I looked down at the bloody imprint of my face in the sand. I didn’t recognize this person anymore. But not because of the numerous gashes and shards of glass protruding from all over. The person I saw was one full of hatred and resentment. I have let these feelings consume me and control every aspect of my day and of my life. I have spent more time contemplating why things are as bad as they are then I have trying to make them better.
I sat there as blood streamed down my cheeks, stinging my already beaten face and just watched. Watched as the waves played over each other. It all looked so ominous at a distance, and yet up close, the ripples and tides seemed to caress each other. Like they know that something will always take care of them. I breathed carefully as my abdomen burned intensely. Light drops of rain began to fall from the sky. In the distance, I could hear the beginnings of thunder rumbling through.
I knew I should be mad right now. I was probably bleeding internally and would need major surgery to repair the lacerations and broken bones. I knew I should probably be trying to find someone to help me or the other people lying in the wreckage. The rain began to beat down harder as I began to stand up. I had been living my life through negativity. I looked upon everything as the outsider, never bothering to see what could possibly lie beyond the initial shell. I harbored myself in the shell. I was so afraid of being alone, I lost any chance of finding someone to be with or even learn to be content with myself.
But stemming from that was this notion, this ever fleeting thought that there had to be more to life.
“Give away the stone. Let the oceans take and transmutate this cold and fated anchor.
Give away the stone. Let the waters kiss and transmutate these leaden grudges into gold.
Let go.”
I looked up and smiled. The water beat down on my face as mascara trickled from eye, to nose, to lip. As I looked upon the massive area of water, I knew I was not alone. My car lay idle and decimated along the beachfront as the light bled through the layers of rain. I stood on the shoreline as water seeped from my old Converse tennis shoes.
I take a step forward.
Thunder crashed through the horizon as clouds rumbled across.
I take another step forward.
All that was left was this. My final moment. I began to shiver as the sagging Old Navy shirt dripped from me. The forecast was for thunderstorms and seventy degrees but it felt like forty right now.
I take the third step in.
I knew there had to be more to life then this. There just had to be. The light began to flicker from those two ever-watching eyes. White light shot across the sky and seemed to connect with something that she would never see, and never feel. They say life is full of opportunity. That you have to take it all in before it’s too late.
I take the fourth step in.
But this can’t be it. This can’t be where we all end. Water purified my descending into this world as the priest shoved me underwater. I would ascend to a new place from this starting point. My beginning would be my end would be my beginning.
I take the fifth step in.
The water was waist high and seeping through my Gap jeans. We are taught that the life we lead is one-dimensional. That this is what we see and hear and touch and take and leave. But we will find this new place. It does exist no matter what the others will try and tell us. The water nips and pulls at my breasts as the tide flows back and forth. The eyes slowly begin to dim, but I am not alone.
I move forward.
In this chaos, as the storm rages on, something new will form. Something better. This isn’t just about finding a new level. It’s about finding a new realm. The water slaps at my jaw as small gulps make their way down my throat. Humanity will end and life will begin. Transcending the man made boundaries into a realm where conscious and unconscious know no limits. I open my eyes through the murky seawater, and let go. The eyes finally close.
“We barely remember what came before this precious moment,
Choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside...
This body holding me, reminding me that I am not alone in
This body makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion.”
The drivers-side door made a perfect obtuse angle as the combination of metal and plastic replaced the left side of my ribcage. I was told that a Volvo was the safest car to buy. With all of the steel rods interlaced throughout the doors, you had a much higher chance of avoiding injury in a crash. Guess they didn’t count on a Ford F-350 careening into your lane at 75 miles per hour. I don’t think he was drunk for the one and a half seconds his face came into view.
I remember drunk. Dad always started the day with at least two beers. He said it helped him relax and have the patience to take the day head on. I remember that slightly glazed look in his eyes as he stumbled around looking for his keys. He never hit mom or me or yell at us or basically do anything you would expect from an alcoholic. He just saw it as his way of coping with the everyday hassles from driving forty minutes to work in gridlock traffic to being yelled at by his department supervisor, his head supervisor, his head of the department, and his assistant manager. All making sure he realized that the what’s-it-called form was ALWAYS included with the so-and-so form and that a duplicate was sent to each of his supervisors and managers. He was very good about hiding his inebriation.
Shards of glass splintered my left eye as I tried to shield my face. I wasn’t sure if it hurt more to close that eye and push the shards in farther or keep it open as the rampant wind blew fresh one’s in. A lighter red dribbled down my face as my body was thrown to the right. Dad wasn’t a bad person. He was just scared to find something better. To step outside of the enclosure and just see what is out there. It was easier for him to just drink until every negative thing was temporarily erased. I hated him for it. We all need some form of escape but he never wanted to deal with anything. I raised my right eye up as two headlights began to move closer and closer. The seatbelt caught as I finally stopped jerking to the right and nestled me back against the leather seat. I think it was a red car but it was kind of hard to tell. I just felt the impact. I would guess they were going a little bit slower than the truck but not by much. My head snapped forward as my face contacted with the windshield. I could feel each and every little laceration as I was lifted up and through. I felt the past reopen.
They said I would need at least thirty stitches. I swore once I was out of the hospital I would get Brad back for knocking me into that mailbox. My skin burned as they wove the needle in and out of my forehead. I would swear my ribs had cracked on the mailbox post but the doctors assured me they were simply bruised. The gravel did the most damage. I wasn’t sure if the sewing needle in my forehead hurt worse than having to remove the gravel and disinfect half of my face. I tried to look up but all I could see was the cheap white linen cloth covering my eyes. Dad was holding my hand through it all but his cold perspiration and shaky movements told me about what he did before he came here.
After the doctor snipped the last thread, he told me, “Your ribs will heal fairly rapidly but you’ll have to take it easy for awhile. Just keep the horseplay down to a minimum these next couple of weeks.”
I didn’t care about the ribs.
“How long will it take for the scar to disappear?” I asked.
“Well, it will never really disappear. In the coming months it will begin to fade and not be as noticeable.”
I ran my finger over the slick crevices that were now imprinted on the left side of my forehead. I didn’t know who I wanted to hurt more, Brad for putting me here, or the doctor for leaving me this way.
It’s hard to really notice the beauty of Connecticut at night. The blossoming green shrubbery looks pale and listless in the shadows. The street lamps cast an eerie glow around each turn of the semi-deserted street. Even the waves and crashes of the ocean appear more menacing bathed only in the moonlight. The radio droned on as I contemplated going home or staying at Jessie’s house tonight. I could see the headlights approaching faster by the second. The truck began to move into the other lane on this two-way road. The curve ahead was illuminated by a sole street lamp. I could barely see the man inside as the truck blurred past me. I could see two new headlights behind me as I veered to the right a bit to avoid getting clipped. Then came the headlights in front of me.
I knew I shouldn’t have run from him, but like always, I did. I don’t know why I yell at him but it just makes me feel better. Even when I can see his heart breaking. I darted out the front door and jumped in my car
I could hear his brake pads grind as he tried to stop. The Mazda Protégé in front of him swerved off of the road but he didn’t seem to notice. He pulled to the right to avoid the car that wasn’t there. My car angled to the right as the truck plowed into my door.
After feeling even more of my ribs shatter from the seatbelts constrictiveness, I slowly unbuckled it and edged towards the passenger door. I was in mid-reach for the door handle as the Toyota Camry contacted with me. I was lifted from the seat and descended through the wall of glass.
I felt like I was six again. Just rolling along those sandy beaches, not worrying about running into anyone, but just enjoying how it felt between my fingers and toes. I must have flown at least twenty feet from my car since it looked so far away. I looked down at the bloody imprint of my face in the sand. I didn’t recognize this person anymore. But not because of the numerous gashes and shards of glass protruding from all over. The person I saw was one full of hatred and resentment. I have let these feelings consume me and control every aspect of my day and of my life. I have spent more time contemplating why things are as bad as they are then I have trying to make them better.
I sat there as blood streamed down my cheeks, stinging my already beaten face and just watched. Watched as the waves played over each other. It all looked so ominous at a distance, and yet up close, the ripples and tides seemed to caress each other. Like they know that something will always take care of them. I breathed carefully as my abdomen burned intensely. Light drops of rain began to fall from the sky. In the distance, I could hear the beginnings of thunder rumbling through.
I knew I should be mad right now. I was probably bleeding internally and would need major surgery to repair the lacerations and broken bones. I knew I should probably be trying to find someone to help me or the other people lying in the wreckage. The rain began to beat down harder as I began to stand up. I had been living my life through negativity. I looked upon everything as the outsider, never bothering to see what could possibly lie beyond the initial shell. I harbored myself in the shell. I was so afraid of being alone, I lost any chance of finding someone to be with or even learn to be content with myself.
But stemming from that was this notion, this ever fleeting thought that there had to be more to life.
“Give away the stone. Let the oceans take and transmutate this cold and fated anchor.
Give away the stone. Let the waters kiss and transmutate these leaden grudges into gold.
Let go.”
I looked up and smiled. The water beat down on my face as mascara trickled from eye, to nose, to lip. As I looked upon the massive area of water, I knew I was not alone. My car lay idle and decimated along the beachfront as the light bled through the layers of rain. I stood on the shoreline as water seeped from my old Converse tennis shoes.
I take a step forward.
Thunder crashed through the horizon as clouds rumbled across.
I take another step forward.
All that was left was this. My final moment. I began to shiver as the sagging Old Navy shirt dripped from me. The forecast was for thunderstorms and seventy degrees but it felt like forty right now.
I take the third step in.
I knew there had to be more to life then this. There just had to be. The light began to flicker from those two ever-watching eyes. White light shot across the sky and seemed to connect with something that she would never see, and never feel. They say life is full of opportunity. That you have to take it all in before it’s too late.
I take the fourth step in.
But this can’t be it. This can’t be where we all end. Water purified my descending into this world as the priest shoved me underwater. I would ascend to a new place from this starting point. My beginning would be my end would be my beginning.
I take the fifth step in.
The water was waist high and seeping through my Gap jeans. We are taught that the life we lead is one-dimensional. That this is what we see and hear and touch and take and leave. But we will find this new place. It does exist no matter what the others will try and tell us. The water nips and pulls at my breasts as the tide flows back and forth. The eyes slowly begin to dim, but I am not alone.
I move forward.
In this chaos, as the storm rages on, something new will form. Something better. This isn’t just about finding a new level. It’s about finding a new realm. The water slaps at my jaw as small gulps make their way down my throat. Humanity will end and life will begin. Transcending the man made boundaries into a realm where conscious and unconscious know no limits. I open my eyes through the murky seawater, and let go. The eyes finally close.