My Car Crash

People weren’t lying when they said it only takes a second for your life to be flipped around. I’ve had more than my share of horrifying situations, but nothing compares to the quickness of a car crash. I can recount almost every detail about what happened, but seeing as only an hour or two has passed, I know that there are pieces that my brain has hidden away in shock. But I can say with unfortunate certainty that time doesn’t move when it occurs. 

It was just an innocent conversation between me and my flatmate, talking about the new motel that popped up in the area. A turn of my steering wheel. A yell of my name. The stupid thought that my airbags should have deployed. Then the dull ache in my knee and the blankness in my mind. 

An overthinker like me has gone over a situation like this countless times in my head, but in my imagination I was much more quick on my feet. After a minute or so of stunned silence, all that left my lips was 

“Alex. Get the fuck out of the car and run.”

Lord knows how happy I am that she didn’t.

I didn’t understand what I was meant to do. All I could do was sit there and hope it was just another dream; I would wake up in my bed to the sound of my flatmates talking, and everything would be fine. But I know it wasn’t. 

Alex told me to get out, and luckily I had enough conscience to do so. My door was tough to open, but once I did, time resumed.  

I stood in the mess of the glass, tears forcing their way past my eyes. Everyone was talking over the other. The hostility of the other party and the nagging bystander was of no help, but the kindness of a stranger eased my worries in the slightest. 

I called my parents.

Now, I don’t know how much more of the actual situation I can keep describing, but the feeling is something I doubt I will ever shut up about.

I cried and I cried and I cried. Part of me was stupid enough to think it was all an act; that I was just pretending so the police wouldn’t yell at me. But I know myself enough to understand it was all real. I was feeling all those emotions, and I just wanted the protective layer of it being untrue so I could keep telling myself I wasn’t weak. I’m not weak for it. I’m a 20 year old girl who very well could have died tonight.

So now begs the question: how will I have changed. 

Weirdly enough, almost dying did not make life seem more desirable. In fact, it made it seem the opposite. I haven’t admitted it out loud just yet, but for a split second, standing at the scene, I had wished the crash would have taken me out completely. Maybe that’s a cowardly response, wanting the easy way out of the situation, but all I know is I don’t feel the way that the movies said I would. I don’t suddenly tell everyone I love them, I don’t look at life with a new appreciation, and I don’t want to go back in time and fix all of my mistakes. Instead, for the first time in a long time, I poured myself a drink. 

I shouldn’t be drinking, professionals have told me to give up alcohol completely. But you try tell me that when you make it out of a crash alive, that you don’t suddenly wanna do everything people tell you not to. I suppose I got the other end of the stick. I don’t want to live a good life because it could be taken from me, I just want to do whatever because one day we just die and that’s it. 

After everything I’ve been through this year, I can say with confidence that life just keeps happening. You don’t get a grace period. The universe doesn’t give you time to rest. It keeps throwing shit at you, and you can either catch it or get hit. I know that’s not the type of advice people should be hearing, but that’s the reality of it all, for some people. Maybe you’ll get lucky and be one of those who gets an epiphany, or maybe you won’t. Shits just gonna keep coming and coming and at one point you think “this might as well happen” and you either become happy and carefree, or disappointed and careless. 

Have fun figuring it out.