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theintervoice (profile) wrote,
on 2-27-2004 at 3:44pm
this is story i wrote the night of my accident, if you want read...comment if you wish :)


It must have been 8:55, no rather I’d say 8:45…now this is off the top of my head so it might be a little blurry, before you criticize, just hear me out, because this is the story of how I died. Now how can I tell the story of how I died, shit I am talking to you right now. My car is gone, this was mine, goddamn it mine I paid for it, I drove it, I loved it. I don’t care if it was just an item and a spawn of me but it gave me more life then the love I have for my very own life. This is not the story of my car…the story is of how I died, the stopping of the flow of my blood, the seizing of my heartbeat, the end of my existence that meant so much to some and less to many.


There are bits of glass and metal in the road that lies parallel to a highway that leads to a beach that I used to go to that is now under construction. Palmetto, yea that’s the road and I hate myself period. It was the sound of rubber starting a scorching hot friction that melted the constriction which kept me sliding into a the back of a Nissan, the rival of Mazda no relation to the story. Nothing to fall back on. I see my self begging for rides for my friends in foreshadowing bubbles of the future. I’m not even a good student to back that up. I am not your favorite person right now. She has reason – I am irresponsible. I grew up to fast but not correctly. The most out of four children oh yes I AM the spitting image of my father, if he had been only as fucked up as me. I should be crying, but I cant because the thought of my mother crying would make me kill myself. All is lost and I should be getting back to the story but what is even the point of writing this, this is not a story about love, friendships, and pacts of self reliance, its not about society, and its sure as hell not about car accidents, or drugs or sex, or comedy, but however in some way it all leads back to all of that, we are all in the same boat, its just that some of us take the harder way to get to their destination. She cries because she missed her French news. Well while I am still in my mode of shock I shall continue to write this useless story while my mother cries because she missed her favorite new program because of me. Because of me her insurance will go up, because of its because she doesn’t have the strength to carry on, and there is no happy ending to this I can assure you that. I hear laughter of fellow classmates mocking poor excuse of driving skills. My lack of knowledge. This was our first soyfest. Great start guys.

As I was saying there is bits of glass and metal lying across Palmetto park road where the 2002 Mazda Protege5, had hit the rear bumper of a Nissan Pathfinder probably in the 99 year of from where I was looking I could really tell because I was too distracted by the shiny blinking lights of the police car sirens…but that’s what were into right? Flashy cool looking lights? Cuz that’s what I was into a few days ago, I had replaced my plain white bulbs for cool blue and red ones to enhance the excitement of driving with me, well I can surely and positively say “mission accomplished, Hamon” there I go going off topic again, stay focused hamon cuz this is all your gunna be hearing in your head for the nexy few years. TONIGHT I killed somebody, I actually killed somebody. Theres is no mistake but my own, and its only 10:00 p.m.


It was 6:30, and sun had not yet risen, “Allez! Hamon Allez! School time” I was wide awake sleeping. I was suppose to skip school but last minute I decided not do it, because I really do wanna start getting good grades in school. Joe and alex understood. However alex skipped anyways. So went to school and went to all classes and learned much. Tension would beat inside from missing homework assignments and the posibility of me running into Jessica.

“Wats up Pat…Brian” I said
Pat replyed in “Is it going to down tonight?”
“You bet your ass it is, SOYFEST 2004” I screamed hoping I’d catch some curiousity in the hall in which people would ask us what soyfest was. Soyfest basically stood for Shit On You Festival, looks like the shit was on me.
The bell rings
“I gotta go to class and do the homework I didn’t last night” said by me with a smile because last night I was running across 18th street naked with bryan to catch some eyes.
In class I could barely keep my eyes open
“Alright everybody pass their homework from last night” implored the teacher
“Shit” I murmured to myself
class went by in 50 minutes, which felt like hours. It’s American history now. I’m remenissing about the days when I would walk Anna to class before I had my old American History class. Truth still hurts.
“Hamon!!!! Whats up, man?” Oto shouts as I walk in the 15 year old portable.
“nothing man, Did you do the vocab?” I hopingly ask
“Nah man, I’m not going to even bother” he said.

thats all i got so far, i'll put the rest up when i write it.
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