(no subject)
This is long overdue, and I've been avoiding it, but the accident has been brewing just below the surface of my thoughts for the past week and I need to get some stuff out.
I've joked about having near death experiences many times in my life, but until last week never have I seriously said to myself, "I am going to die right now." It wasn't in slow motion. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes. My vision didn't get blurred. I didn't cry. I didn't see any white light. But just before we collided, a slew of thoughts overwhelmed all of my fear. For a split second it was no longer, "The wheels of this semi are going to be the last thing I lay my eyes on." It became, "I haven't seen my dad since Christmas. I don't call my mom enough. I'm never going to get to tell Joe how happy he's made me and how wonderful he is. I've never gotten to hug Rachel. I don't tell my friends that I love and appreciate their presence in my life every single day."
I honestly don't think this experience has changed Devon at all. He still thinks that he's invincible and that he can do whatever he wants without consequence. Afterwards, he started bitching about how expensive his underglow was and how he had just gotten his windows tinted and new rear lights. I wanted to grab him and scream in his face that they should be wiping us off his seats with a Clorox wipe and here he was complaining about the superficial damage to his car.
That night he and Ryan were joking about how if this was Final Destination, I would be the first to die so they weren't going to worry about it until I kicked the bucket.
I don't know. I guess it's just aggravating when you share a near-death, life-changing experience with someone and it doesn't seem to affect them at all.
I've joked about having near death experiences many times in my life, but until last week never have I seriously said to myself, "I am going to die right now." It wasn't in slow motion. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes. My vision didn't get blurred. I didn't cry. I didn't see any white light. But just before we collided, a slew of thoughts overwhelmed all of my fear. For a split second it was no longer, "The wheels of this semi are going to be the last thing I lay my eyes on." It became, "I haven't seen my dad since Christmas. I don't call my mom enough. I'm never going to get to tell Joe how happy he's made me and how wonderful he is. I've never gotten to hug Rachel. I don't tell my friends that I love and appreciate their presence in my life every single day."
I honestly don't think this experience has changed Devon at all. He still thinks that he's invincible and that he can do whatever he wants without consequence. Afterwards, he started bitching about how expensive his underglow was and how he had just gotten his windows tinted and new rear lights. I wanted to grab him and scream in his face that they should be wiping us off his seats with a Clorox wipe and here he was complaining about the superficial damage to his car.
That night he and Ryan were joking about how if this was Final Destination, I would be the first to die so they weren't going to worry about it until I kicked the bucket.
I don't know. I guess it's just aggravating when you share a near-death, life-changing experience with someone and it doesn't seem to affect them at all.