Personal Narrative - Contemplating Death
"Then, just like that, she was gone. I couldn’t hold back the tears, and I don’t think my sunglasses hid them well. I’ve gotten used to my emotions and I only let it all out when they can’t be stifled, so you know this wasn’t a sigh-I’m-gonna-miss-her moment. The sunshine and warm breeze of Friday afternoon was frustrating; dreary, cold, typical-March days are fitting, appropriate for feeling this way, and how nice it was outside was a slap in the face. I later recalled how just a year prior I reversed the phrase A sunny day is no match for a cloudy disposition on a day like this one. I thought I was okay with everything, so what was it that hurt me? She left so easily; she never thinks about how lucky she is to still see me, not because she doesn’t deserve to, but the fact that I am still here for her to see. If she knew what I’m going to tell you…well, speculation is useless.
I died this morning on my way to school: the guy behind me tried to stop but he locked his brakes out of panic and only slowed to forty five miles per hour. Of course, this isn’t what killed me; the trauma sustained by my face hitting my steering wheel as the opposite reaction of my head whipping backwards upon impact was my demise. The road to my college is only two lanes, and often there are stoppages as a result of cars waiting to turn left, since the shoulder does not provide sufficient room to pass on the right. The only way to avoid speeding too excessively to stop in time is to pay careful attention to the car in front of you, something the gentleman following me failed to do. He was preoccupied with the midterm he was trying not to be late for, the source of the stress he had calmed with the potent combination of smoking pot and then listening to Phish on the car ride to school. He gave me his name and insurance company’s phone number and I suggested we not call the police in the interest of time: we both arrived to our respective classes on time and he managed to get a seat next to a girl capable of getting a B-.
Just three days prior I encountered the similar misfortune of a driver unaware of the surrounding traffic. The rain had been steadily downpouring by the time I had reached the Expressway on my way home from Philadelphia: although it wasn’t the kind of rain that eliminates visibility, it had caused two cars to collide already. The police car’s lights attracted the center and right lanes to slow in an attempt to see what had happened, but the lights also contributed to the sea of headlights and streetlights refracting through the rain, debilitating any driver’s vision. Driving in the center lane, both the car in front of me and I slowed almost to a stop because of the drivers ahead: unfortunately the left lane’s traffic prevented me from passing this car, which I then remained behind as she changed to the left lane. Continuing for about one hundred yards, she suddenly stopped, and, abandoning my practice...