I Wish
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
Colin's reflections. {Don't own Everwood or any of the characters
mentioned therein. If I did, I can guarantee I'd get myself a better
computer than this craptastic heap of plastic.}
.:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:. .:*:.
The past few days have been terrible. Everything's been terrible since I woke up.
As we drove to the park the day I came home, colors blurred beyond my window and we passed things I should've known. Places I had visited many times before. Places I should've known. Nothing. No familiar feeling. No sense of déjà vu.
We met Amy at the park. She was going to ride the rest of the way home with me. Amy. She's pretty. And I can tell she's frustrated with me. She wants so badly for me to remember. I want to remember, too. She told me stories. One about stealing the teachers keys. I don't remember that. Or her.
At the hospital they had given me a list of everyone I knew, how I knew them, stuff about them. Things I should know. On this tiny slip of paper concealed in my hand, I had written things about Amy. She was my girlfriend. My best friend's little sister. She used to be annoying, but wasn't anymore once we started dating. She was Grover. I had no recollection of this girl whatsoever.
She was upset when she found the slip of paper. I would've been to had my girlfriend needed notes to remember me. But she still rode home with me.
There was a big 'welcoming' party for me at home when we got there. I didn't feel very welcome. I didn't know any of the people there. I was sitting the couch when Bright entered the room. He apologized for the accident. Nobody will ever be as sorry as I am, and I'm not even sure of what happened. All that I know is I don't remember anything. It's the worst feeling. I wish I had never woken up. I wish I had died. I'm not going to remember these people or the stories they tell me. That's all my past will ever be to me - stories that I've been told.
I don't remember my favorite movie, my favorite color, favorite food, favorite shoe, favorite kind of M&M's. None of it. I didn't even remember my own name.
The other day, the day after I came home, Amy came over. She wanted to start over. From the beginning. She re-introduced herself. I wish things were that easy. That I could just meet everyone, everything, all over again. But I've missed out on so much. One accident, four months in a coma, my entire life deleted from my mind. One stupid mistake that took a fraction of a second to make, and every single memory I've ever created is gone.
No one understands. My parents are extra careful with me. Treat me like fine china. They don't want to break me. Everyone's that way. Have to be careful with Colin. Everyone's that way except when they're trying to get me to remember. I get frustrated with myself. They can so easily recall events of my life that I don't even have the slightest inkling ever happened.
This is so hard. Sometimes, I wish I had been driving the truck. Then I wouldn't be going through this. It would be Bright Abbott, my supposed best friend.
But, then how would I feel? Hiding the secret that I was really driving and that he was in a coma because of me? How could I deal with something like that constantly under the surface of my mind. Always in my thoughts. Slowly eating away at me. Not knowing if my best friend would ever wake up, and if he did, would he still be a vegetable?
I realize that this isn't something to be wished upon someone else. No matter how much of an injustice I think it is, it did happen to me. But I'm alive.
And I have two people I've never met to thank for that. The doctor who operated on me and his son, who Amy talked into asking his father to do the surgery on me.
I should be more thankful and less bitter about this, but it's hard to not be resentful of everything and everyone when you have to use notes to remember your own family, best friend, and girlfriend.
And, always, in the back of my mind. . .I wish.
The past few days have been terrible. Everything's been terrible since I woke up.
As we drove to the park the day I came home, colors blurred beyond my window and we passed things I should've known. Places I had visited many times before. Places I should've known. Nothing. No familiar feeling. No sense of déjà vu.
We met Amy at the park. She was going to ride the rest of the way home with me. Amy. She's pretty. And I can tell she's frustrated with me. She wants so badly for me to remember. I want to remember, too. She told me stories. One about stealing the teachers keys. I don't remember that. Or her.
At the hospital they had given me a list of everyone I knew, how I knew them, stuff about them. Things I should know. On this tiny slip of paper concealed in my hand, I had written things about Amy. She was my girlfriend. My best friend's little sister. She used to be annoying, but wasn't anymore once we started dating. She was Grover. I had no recollection of this girl whatsoever.
She was upset when she found the slip of paper. I would've been to had my girlfriend needed notes to remember me. But she still rode home with me.
There was a big 'welcoming' party for me at home when we got there. I didn't feel very welcome. I didn't know any of the people there. I was sitting the couch when Bright entered the room. He apologized for the accident. Nobody will ever be as sorry as I am, and I'm not even sure of what happened. All that I know is I don't remember anything. It's the worst feeling. I wish I had never woken up. I wish I had died. I'm not going to remember these people or the stories they tell me. That's all my past will ever be to me - stories that I've been told.
I don't remember my favorite movie, my favorite color, favorite food, favorite shoe, favorite kind of M&M's. None of it. I didn't even remember my own name.
The other day, the day after I came home, Amy came over. She wanted to start over. From the beginning. She re-introduced herself. I wish things were that easy. That I could just meet everyone, everything, all over again. But I've missed out on so much. One accident, four months in a coma, my entire life deleted from my mind. One stupid mistake that took a fraction of a second to make, and every single memory I've ever created is gone.
No one understands. My parents are extra careful with me. Treat me like fine china. They don't want to break me. Everyone's that way. Have to be careful with Colin. Everyone's that way except when they're trying to get me to remember. I get frustrated with myself. They can so easily recall events of my life that I don't even have the slightest inkling ever happened.
This is so hard. Sometimes, I wish I had been driving the truck. Then I wouldn't be going through this. It would be Bright Abbott, my supposed best friend.
But, then how would I feel? Hiding the secret that I was really driving and that he was in a coma because of me? How could I deal with something like that constantly under the surface of my mind. Always in my thoughts. Slowly eating away at me. Not knowing if my best friend would ever wake up, and if he did, would he still be a vegetable?
I realize that this isn't something to be wished upon someone else. No matter how much of an injustice I think it is, it did happen to me. But I'm alive.
And I have two people I've never met to thank for that. The doctor who operated on me and his son, who Amy talked into asking his father to do the surgery on me.
I should be more thankful and less bitter about this, but it's hard to not be resentful of everything and everyone when you have to use notes to remember your own family, best friend, and girlfriend.
And, always, in the back of my mind. . .I wish.