poetsthought's Diaryland Diary

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piece of writing \"Fear\"

so after much thought and... well thinking... I've decided to post up my story, the one that started some of the things I've had to deal with (tho mostly that all started from childhood stuff)... but here it is in full for you to read and judge as you will. tho, please remember... there is not ONE SHRED of fiction here... its all true.

Jan. 4th, 2002, Friday


Fear

        I stopped as a cold wind swept over my bones. As I stood there, looking at the result of that day; that day when my life could have either ended or been spared... I shivered. On this fourth day of January, I remembered what had happened on that day...a year & a couple months... almost 14 months before.
        Not wanting to, but knowing it would happen... what had happened that day washed over me... as I tried to forgive and move on in my life.

        Looking back at the van-—exhaust pouring from the engine, tires spinning, tipped in the ditch, trees smashed down. I see the lights brighten, causing an eerie light to touch this November morning air. A bit cold, I begin my way home, half running, half walking, unshed tears filling my eyes, unknown emotions, strange feelings, new fears course through my veins. All that had just happened flashes through my fear-controlled mind.
        The tree looming up as he pressed the brakes, just in time to keep from crashing into the tree. I hurriedly buckle my seatbelt as he speeds down the gravel road, the headlights showing the trees passing in a blur, his foot pressing down on the gas. The van races over the road and my grip on the seatbelt tightens, my adrenaline pumping as my fear rises. My guardian dear to whom God’s love commits me here, Ever this day be at my side to light and guard to rule and guide. Amen. I repeat over and over in my mind, hoping, praying, wishing I didn’t get hurt, praying my life would be spared.
        As he turns onto our gravel road, I feel the van speed up, and it slides. In an unstoppable motion the van slides out of control, the back end swinging around the corner, carrying the van to the side, sending it—-and us—-crashing into the ditch, trees scrape across my window and the windshield.
        I yell out in gasps as my arm flies to my face, trying to protect my face if the window shatters, ducking down my head praying the window doesn’t break—-praying I don’t get hurt—-wishing with all my hear that this is a nightmare that I will wake up from with the sound of my alarm and that I can get up and get ready for school—-but I know too well that this is what’s really happening to me-—to me!!-—but I wonder why as I pray to high heavens for my life-—as I pray that this will end—-why is this happening to me?—-why is this cruel lesson in life being taught to me?—-WHY ME?!?!
        But here I am—-cowering in the front passenger seat thanking the Lord above that my life was spared, but afraid of the angry man sitting in the driver’s seat next to me. I loosed my grip on the seatbelt as I unbuckle it, cowering in the seat—-tears beginning to fall—-wishing his angry screams and cussed weren’t what my ears were hearing now—-that I wasn’t seeing what one human being consumed with anger could put a single human being through.
        “GOD DAMN IT!!! HOLY FUCKING CHRIST...!!!!!” he swears as he pounds the steering wheel with his fists--the anger radiating out of his eyes as he looks around. “WHERE THE HELL ARE MY SLIPPERS??!!??!!” he orders, his face seething with rage.
        I frantically search for them, wanting to please him in any way—wanting him to be just calm and fine and my older brother once again—-not this man consumed with angry—-not this human who I was scared to death to be in the same car with. I cower under his anger as we both look for his slippers. My small voice answers him, “I don’t know where they are... I can’t find them..." which sends him off into another swearing streak. I just want to forget this unseen anger... and replace it by the brother I knew and loved—-at least the brother I thought I had known. Seeing how angry he is...I wonder why us being late to the bus stop caused all this rage to flow forth...and why it had to happen with me around.
        Neither of us finding his slippers he grabs the blanket and orders me out. I squeeze past him as I try and hide my fear and my tear streaked face.
        Crying and practically stumbling, I manage the half mile walk home, where I walk down our driveway, letting the tears come... I open the front door, drop my backpack and purse and stumble up the stairs in my haste to reach my sleeping mom. I creep into her still dark room as I try to wake her, trying to calm the sobs that rack my body. I manage to wake her and asking what time it is, she senses something is wrong and on hearing me trying to stifle my sobs, she sits up as I try to explain what has happened. "Accident—-missed the bus—-van in ditch—-" I choke out at she tries to calm me.
        She gets up and dresses, putting on her sweatpants and sweatshirt, trying her best to calm me. Knowing that no solace can be found in her care, I escape to the dog room where I pass Klipsan’s cage and sit down in front of the door that leads onto the deck. I cower and pull my legs against me as I place my head on my arms and cry into my knees. Why did this have to happen to me?? Why did I have to witness this rage so great that it caused this accident...this rage that has caused my life to change...my relationship with my brother to change...to one where I know no solace from the rage filled eyes that keep filling my mind. Those eyes that were once kind and gentle but now will haunt my life filled with anger.. reminding me of this day. A shadow looms over me in the dark room as my brother tries to talk to me... I ignore his pleas for me to listen to him...I wait until he leaves and I escape down the stairs—-open the door—-run through the living room and down the hall to the sweet, dark solace of my room. I crawl under the covers, welcoming the innocent softness my blanket causes against my skin.
        My mom knocks on my door to tell me I can go to school late... and I just mumble a reply as I cover my self in my comforter. I hide in the darkness it envelopes my body in as I cry...letting the tears flow forth and letting sleep overcome my exhausted body. A knock sounds on my door, waking me...reality waking me instantly.
        I climb out of bed as I try and put some type of order back into my bed, but give up as I open my door and walk out. My mom stands there and hands me a note, saying that if anyone asks, I just missed the bus. I shake my head not answering as I gather my things and open the door and leave the house. She gets in the car as I climb in, buckling my seatbelt as I set my bag on the floor. She starts the Subaru and we drive up the driveway, the silence enveloping me in a calm. I lean my head on my hand as we pass the van, my eyes closed at the memory, willing it to go away-—the image of the van in the ditch, tires spinning, and exhaust pouring from the engine as the smell of burnt rubber fills my nostrils—-I mentally shrink back from the memory... wishing I was already at school and already in first period- math class.
        Mom stops the car in front of the school as I get out and she wished me a better day. I say goodbye as my numb legs carry me inside and to the attendance booth. The attendance lady reads the note I hand her and tells me that since this is my first “sleep late and missed the bus” note she will let it by. She continues on that this is normally not allowed. My mind screams at her: IF I HANDED YOU A NOTE SAYING I WAS JUST IN AN ACCIDENT AND THAT’S WHY I’M LATE FOR SCHOOL...WOULD THAT BE AN ACCEPTABLE EXCUSE?!?!?!?!!?! I give the needed answer and take the pass as my legs carry my numb body out to the portables, wishing all the while I could be surrounding myself with the warmth and softness of my bed.
        I walk into math class to find a sub—-I give her my slip and sit down, finding everyone doing work and mostly talking. I get my book and open it, getting out my binder as I stare down at the lesson. My friends around me laugh and talk, enjoying having a substitute teacher. I look about me, feeling somehow like I am on the outside, wondering if they all even noticed the fact that I was late to class. The bell eventually rings and I make my way to WA state history, my second period, as I look around me at the happy friends, still feeling disconnected, alone, and in need of a BUNCH of hugs.
        Reaching my next class, I sit down, trying to curl up in my seat, to fight off this sorrow and detachment I’m feeling. Seeing my friend walk in the door, all I want is to ask her for a hug, but something keeps me from doing so, my mother’s words echoing in my mind “if anyone asks, you slept in late...” We begin class as I am told today we are going to start the settler’s simulation and the teacher goes on to explain it. My partner sits down next to me, him talking about this and that as I stare blankly at his face, unsure and feeling alone and just wanted to cry.
        The class goes by and I go on to science- third period. From there I go to fourth period- health class and to second lunch... trying to get caught up in my friends’ happiness...in the hopes of forgetting my own fear. We go back to class and then on to fifth period- English. I continue on, allowing myself to get caught up in their happiness, their laughter as I look on, wishing I could act that way, feeling detached and numb—-no emotion but one -–fear still lapping at my mind...slowly residing like the waves on a beach, but only for now.
        Sixth period comes and I make my way back to the portables, still feeling detached and outside, wondering when this feeling will end. I go into my French class and sit down in my seat, glad I’m sitting towards the back of the room. Class starts and I allow myself to act as much as normal as I listen to the teacher. Class comes to an end as everyone gathers up their stuff...I gather up my things and make my way to the bus as the bell rings. Getting on the bus, I make my way to the back seat, fear washing over my mind like the tide coming in, knowing that I’d eventually be back home...back home to where it all happened.
        The bus makes its stops and the people slowly thin out as it reaches my stop. I wish for the darkness of my room as the bus turns up the hill, slowing to a stop in front of the gravel road. I gather my things as I get off the bus, dreading whatever is to come—-the fear slowly making its way back into my mind.
        My mom is waiting in the car and we make our way home, passing by that spot, showing trees smashed and a visible gap in the tree line. She explains to me how, after calling the insurance company for a tow truck, she was informed that the sheriff had to be present. The sheriff arrived and then she told me how, if he had known I as in the car, my brother would have been charged with reckless driving and arrested. So the fact that I was in the car when this happened was unknown to the sheriff...a hidden fact that should have been told, but wasn’t. Mom goes on to explain everything else as I try and calm the fear that touches my mind.
        We get home and I make my way to my room, forcing myself to concentrate on something—-anything-—to get my mind off what had happened almost nine hours before. I sleep, sit around, attempt to come to terms with what has happened. I go online, reading fan fiction, allowing myself to be emerged in the world someone else has created with their own imagination. I attempt some homework, but after dinner... I climb into the hot soothing water of the bathtub. Immersing myself in the bubbles...urging my muscles to relax...while my mind is frozen to replay all that had happened that morning.
        After my bath, I retreat to my room where my dad comes to talk to me. He tries to explain to me that what happened that morning was not my fault and that my family is happy I’m safe and okay. He hugs and as I give the answers he wants and he leaves me to my own fear. I eventually go to bed, falling into an exhausted sleep—praying and hoping the next morning won’t be a replay of this morning.

        As I think of that day, I get chills all over. I recount conversations with friends of me tearing up at the thought of how hurt I could have been—-at the true danger I was in. I look up into the light sunshine on this fourth day in January as I take a deep breath and reach out to touch the scares left on the trees. Tears fill my eyes as I will myself to let go—-to move on—-to remind myself that my fear of my doing this to another human being-- putting them through that fear—-is not something I need to worry about. Truly by nature, I am a gentle person and could never wish that experience on another soul. All I know is that I must learn to forgive my brother for what he put me through and to realized that he isn’t like the rest of us. Though he’s still my brother, he’s not the same as the rest of us and just can’t quite function the same. But I need to realize—-I’m not like that—-I wouldn’t do that—-I won’t do that to someone else. I just need to realize and focus in on the fact that I’m a gentle person who only wants the best for the people around me and that what happened on the day is something I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen to someone else. Never will or would I want another person to experience that emotion so strongly as I felt it that day...never would I want someone to feel that type of fear.

6:29 PM - 07.16.04 Friday

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