RIP Gilbert August 2009 - December 2009
So today I learned that my little red Cobalt, who I lovingly named Gilbert has to be totaled. Because I managed to crash him and destroy the passenger side of the engine block. They told me I'm lucky to be alive. The same Jeep hit my back end, bashing it in, and as it swerved to to avoid me, the front end was totaled. I couldn't get out the passenger door. That's what they told me, that's what I saw. But I didn't comprehend it then.
Then it was light and dark and pain and cold. Feelings rushing down on me, overwhelming me, fear ripping through my bruised chest, a deep hate for myself, a need to crawl in a hole somewhere and die. It was my damn fault, and I hated myself for it. I didn't realize then that I had unknowingly killed my Gilbo.
This may sound stupid, but I think Gilbert saved my life. The first thing I can remember after the initial impact was the seat belt holding me in so tight it was almost choking me, and it wouldn't let go. Plus, just with the way Gilbo was hit... I got damn lucky. A little farther back and I would not be able to be sitting here typing this, probably. I think Gilbert sacrificed himself to save me somehow. Call me sentimental and stupid. I really don't care. I'll still believe it.
Today when my mom picked me up from school, she told me the news. I almost cried then and there. We had to go clean everything out, and that was awful, because i was on the verge of tears the whole time because I love that little red car and the freedom he helped to give me and the way I could just stay in the car and hide when I didn't want to go home. I hated leaving, and I cried the whole way home. Its been overwhelming. Can you have survivor's guilt when the only person who died technically wasn't alive?
So this one is for you buddy. You've been with me through the best and worst of times. I will never have a car like you. I'm sorry you only lived to be 5000ish miles (and I told you that we would probably celebrate your 10,000 mile b-day by the end of the school year), but the ride was awesome. I could not have asked for a better first car. <3
Then it was light and dark and pain and cold. Feelings rushing down on me, overwhelming me, fear ripping through my bruised chest, a deep hate for myself, a need to crawl in a hole somewhere and die. It was my damn fault, and I hated myself for it. I didn't realize then that I had unknowingly killed my Gilbo.
This may sound stupid, but I think Gilbert saved my life. The first thing I can remember after the initial impact was the seat belt holding me in so tight it was almost choking me, and it wouldn't let go. Plus, just with the way Gilbo was hit... I got damn lucky. A little farther back and I would not be able to be sitting here typing this, probably. I think Gilbert sacrificed himself to save me somehow. Call me sentimental and stupid. I really don't care. I'll still believe it.
Today when my mom picked me up from school, she told me the news. I almost cried then and there. We had to go clean everything out, and that was awful, because i was on the verge of tears the whole time because I love that little red car and the freedom he helped to give me and the way I could just stay in the car and hide when I didn't want to go home. I hated leaving, and I cried the whole way home. Its been overwhelming. Can you have survivor's guilt when the only person who died technically wasn't alive?
So this one is for you buddy. You've been with me through the best and worst of times. I will never have a car like you. I'm sorry you only lived to be 5000ish miles (and I told you that we would probably celebrate your 10,000 mile b-day by the end of the school year), but the ride was awesome. I could not have asked for a better first car. <3