i can't include everything, and u will never know...words don't do justice
Let me first begin by acknowledging my surprise at being asked to portray the drunk driver in yesterday's accident. For those of you who know me, you know I'm not the party-girl type. I don't drink, and usually I AM the designated driver. However, Mrs. Yagmur pointed out to me something that was very important. It only takes once.
Until yesterday, however, I didn't understand how true it was. I learned that in reality, my "good girl" images doesn't impress anyone. It doesn't make me innocent in the eyes of the law. Death doesn't forgive me or my victims and give a second chance. It doesn't matter how much I say "I'm sorry." Besides, who am I really apologizing to? My parents, the police, the mourners, the dead...or just myself? When it comes down to it, those two words mean absolutely nothing, and can't change anything.
When I was sitting there in the cell, crying to myself, this all suddenly became clear to me. What did I think my tears would accomplish? Would the deputy suddenly come in and feel sorry for me and then grant my release? No. It didn't happen that way in the simulation, and won't happen that way in real life. Instead, hours went by when I felt lost, disgusted, bored, depressed, and confused. I was hungry but couldn't eat, tired but couldn't sleep. However, I was perfectly aware that I was more alone than I'd ever been in my life.
I had no one to confide in. The officers at the station weren't interested in my stories. They didn't want to know how I felt. Instead, they wanted my jewelry (which included my rings that act as my security blanket when I'm nervous), my clothes (which were exchanged for blue burlap-bag-type disasters that were eight sizes too big), a urine sample (which was given up along with my clothes without any dignity or privacy, but rather in front of the deputy), and my pride (lost instantly when I realized I was a common criminal to them...no different from anyone else). Still, even with all of this, I was much more worried about somethine else...
How could I look my parents in the face? What would they say to me? What would be my excuse? Then I thought of my friends. What if they had been in the car? How could I look at their parents and tell them that I had killed their child? Soon, I had so many questions that all became incoherent. All I could do was wait until the moment came when these questions would be answered. There was no way to predict it.
That's what brought me back to the accident. Had it been real, it too could not have been predicted. Now, I understand that that would have been a million times worse. How is that possible? I mean, when I was standing there, watching the jaws of life tear open the car, listening to the anger in the deputy's voice as she commanded me to watch what I had caused, and tasting my tears, I KNEW that this was real.
Still, tonight I get to go home and hug my parents. Tonight I can see my friends. Tonight, I get to go back to being a lifeguard (a position that made the officer at the station laugh rudely at me because of its hypocracy). Tonight, I can thank God that I'm not just a common criminal. Most importantly, the lives of those who were supposedly taken will still be here to cherish. Luckily, I don't have to say "I'm sorry" to beg for undesereved forgiveness for my guilty conscience--though I'll admit I still want to. Instead, I just hope that you can learn from waht I did, and refuse to make the mistake I made. It is your choice, and it only takes once...
that's my speech. just in case anyone ever needs a reminder.
i love u all. God bless.
~michelle~
Until yesterday, however, I didn't understand how true it was. I learned that in reality, my "good girl" images doesn't impress anyone. It doesn't make me innocent in the eyes of the law. Death doesn't forgive me or my victims and give a second chance. It doesn't matter how much I say "I'm sorry." Besides, who am I really apologizing to? My parents, the police, the mourners, the dead...or just myself? When it comes down to it, those two words mean absolutely nothing, and can't change anything.
When I was sitting there in the cell, crying to myself, this all suddenly became clear to me. What did I think my tears would accomplish? Would the deputy suddenly come in and feel sorry for me and then grant my release? No. It didn't happen that way in the simulation, and won't happen that way in real life. Instead, hours went by when I felt lost, disgusted, bored, depressed, and confused. I was hungry but couldn't eat, tired but couldn't sleep. However, I was perfectly aware that I was more alone than I'd ever been in my life.
I had no one to confide in. The officers at the station weren't interested in my stories. They didn't want to know how I felt. Instead, they wanted my jewelry (which included my rings that act as my security blanket when I'm nervous), my clothes (which were exchanged for blue burlap-bag-type disasters that were eight sizes too big), a urine sample (which was given up along with my clothes without any dignity or privacy, but rather in front of the deputy), and my pride (lost instantly when I realized I was a common criminal to them...no different from anyone else). Still, even with all of this, I was much more worried about somethine else...
How could I look my parents in the face? What would they say to me? What would be my excuse? Then I thought of my friends. What if they had been in the car? How could I look at their parents and tell them that I had killed their child? Soon, I had so many questions that all became incoherent. All I could do was wait until the moment came when these questions would be answered. There was no way to predict it.
That's what brought me back to the accident. Had it been real, it too could not have been predicted. Now, I understand that that would have been a million times worse. How is that possible? I mean, when I was standing there, watching the jaws of life tear open the car, listening to the anger in the deputy's voice as she commanded me to watch what I had caused, and tasting my tears, I KNEW that this was real.
Still, tonight I get to go home and hug my parents. Tonight I can see my friends. Tonight, I get to go back to being a lifeguard (a position that made the officer at the station laugh rudely at me because of its hypocracy). Tonight, I can thank God that I'm not just a common criminal. Most importantly, the lives of those who were supposedly taken will still be here to cherish. Luckily, I don't have to say "I'm sorry" to beg for undesereved forgiveness for my guilty conscience--though I'll admit I still want to. Instead, I just hope that you can learn from waht I did, and refuse to make the mistake I made. It is your choice, and it only takes once...
that's my speech. just in case anyone ever needs a reminder.
i love u all. God bless.
~michelle~