I became a poster child for accidents

A monthly public service announcement 

A cautionary tale

Something for people to try to avoid

Look both ways then Cross. That order.  Always

Was it the timing? 

The week? The day? The hour affecting the outcome?

Was it the location? 

If I went elsewhere, crossed elsewhere, belonged elsewhere?

Was it the people?

Was it the friends or the family, or the non-existent relationships leading to loneliness?

Was it traumatizing?

Should I have gone to the hospital, spoken to a therapist instead of both joking and storing it for future excuses, Should I have worn the sling the whole time to symbolize the incident instead of taking it off?

Was it just me? Or was it him? Or was it changed with every choice until the inevitable collision?

The literal collision of me into metal, concrete, then ambulance, and the hospital. 

The sun shines in a window, through the glass, into his vision while I race off to school. 

Stressed about being late, 

about getting work done,

about my social and extracurricular situation. 

But I don’t cheat nor I don’t lie, 

so I stopped, waited, motioned, and crossed. 

Stepping one foot onto the white line of the street

But the sun was in his face, through the glass, deadly rays that sent flying. 

Then nothing

When they say life flashes through your eyes they must have been talking about something else

Because that parts a blank,

That parts non-existent,

That part starts with up and ends with down and nothing in between

The story put together by other’s statements. 

You went flying,

You got hit on the left and fell on the left,

Your backpack protected your head

Your shoes flew off your feet

Witnesses bring blanket and make unbreakable walls 

emanating both sides of parenting

The scolder and the comforter.

He pulls off the street.

I get pulled off the street.

He presses his feet on the brakes and puts the car in park

I’m sitting in a parked car without shoes on my feet

His head is racked with guilt

While my head was only saved by my backpack limiting my fall. 

Then a blur

Phone calls; Ambulance

Pain; Embrace

Shiver; Blanket

Siren; Recognition

That’s for me

I got hit,

I went flying,

I’m in pain

But yet my dad saw everything

My dad saw his kid get hit

And his kid fly and is now going with her into an ambulance

He’s calling my mom and letting her know

So I worry about him since I don’t know how to worry about myself

The cars part

Like a princess going to her home country

And selfishly, for a second,

I’m the center of attention

The one to be looked after

And things are moved around

As the ambulance pulls in and every eye is on me

at least that’s what it felt like

And then its not pain I’m feeling but annoyance

Because I’m fine

Don’t you get that I’m fine.

I want to go back to school, 

To life,

See my siblings at least

But I’ve been stuck in this room for forever

Why doesn’t anyone understand that I’m fine

And after everything

The horror of the crash

The annoyance to the hospital staff

The blank of meeting with my lawyer 

And the small victory of my compensation

Its still a focal point in my life story

Both watching people cross at inopportune time

And trying to legally be behind the wheel

A scary and scarring part of my story

What would I rate my pain?

5. hasn’t changed in the last half hour

And on a scale of one to ten

I would rate the experience a 8

Because nothing was broken,

No one was hurt,

And who doesn’t want a new bad-*ss story about themselves.