bridges [on hold]

ii. if you're bad at math

january 7, 2013

dad found this. i tried to hide it, but he went into my room to get the water bottle i had refused to bring down earlier. i stuffed this into my bookshelf, but he probably noticed it right away. i only keep five books on my bookshelf, and there were six. he asked me what it was, and i told him that it was a journal, even though it was obviously a journal and he already knew that. i told him dr. evanston gave it to me to write my thoughts in, and i scoffed at the same time he said, "that's a good idea." he told me to give it a shot again, so here i am.

there are no pictures of petey around the house any more. mom and dad took those down yesterday. his room is still full of his stuff though, and the door is open and so is mine, and i can see directly in  because my room is directly across from his, and it hits me directly in the most sensitive part of my heart.

i can't bring myself to close either door, and i don't know why.

all i can do is stare into the dull blue void that used to be lit up and happy, but now his unmade bed and the action figures spread out across the floor are only there to haunt me. 

people have been dropping off meals and balloons. most of them are in his room, floating aimlessly as if he'll get there eventually to be excited over them. there's one in my room in the shape of a daisy. it reads, "get well soon!!" and under the two exclamation points there's a smile, as if healing is supposed to be some cheerful process - i can tell you right now, it's not.

i had two surgeries. when it happened, i went through the windshield and back. my left side is scarred all over, and because i put out my hand to stop myself, the bones in my left wrist were completely smashed. the first surgery was for my shoulder and the area of my back that surrounds my shoulder, and the second was for my wrist.

there are eight tiny bones in your wrist, and three of mine have been replaced by metal plates. if you're bad at math, roughly 40% of my wrist is metal now. i go to physical therapy every day to do painful exercises that the doctor promises will help, but i don't see a point in over half of them.

i still haven't gone back to school. mom and dad told me i don't have to, and they enrolled me in virtual school. i don't think i'll get another chance to be on the cross-country team. i blew it. on top of everything i've caused with the accident, i can't even play my sport now.

sometimes i think i'm just a shell of who i used to be. it hasn't even been that long, and i'm already deteriorating from the inside out. funny how something can tear you apart so quick.

seventeen days.

--

 the whole "seventeen days" thing is how many days have passed. not sure if that was like clear or not but... there ya go. 

i had a really cool (and tiring) service project today, i helped distribute boxes of food to people who couldn't otherwise afford it. there was this one lady who was eighty years old, her aunt had died this morning, they were going to bury her today, and she was still standing in line for three hours (in the florida heat) to get her food because if she didn't, she wouldn't get food this week.

it's eye-opening.

i'd definitely recommend volunteering in something like that any time you can, you won't believe the impact it has on these people. they were all so appreciative, and i was just carrying the boxes to their cars.

anywayyyy... yeah. long author's note. that may happen sometimes. oops.

remember to vote, comment, etc. share with your friends. anything helps. i love you all. c:

- kendall