Sooo... I got bored. And I found a little something in my archives. I think I wrote it a year ago... Well, enough 'bout me... Read on. Oh, and this is the first time I posted. Please Review. No flames please! :)
~youngkkiee
I cheated death's design. I escaped tragedy. I had met death himself and spit on his godforsaken face. I stayed alive against all odds, which was the biggest mistake I've made in my entire life.
To everyone else, I received a miracle, a gift from Above. But not to me. My survival was a curse from hell; a letter sent by the devil himself.
My mother had always said death is peaceful. Death is relief from the daily anguishes of our short-lived life, she'd say. Death is the antidote to pain and suffering. Death is private; terrifying, but private.
But even if it was a luxury I could finally afford, it was taken away from me.
Being a sole survivor of a violent car crash brought me attention, and lots of it, too. Little did they know about the nightmares that came along with it. The guilt of the selfishness I had done when I just lied there and watch my father die in his car seat haunted me. I see his bloodied face every damn night. Haunting me. Mocking me. Telling me I did nothing and that it was wrong. That I deserve to suffer.
I didn't know why I lived while he had a satisfying death. Did truly I deserve this? Did I deserve to drown in my own depression and guilt while he sat by and watched me from. . .well, wherever he was. . .? What did I do to have this living hell?
Though, those aren't the only questions in my mysterious history. But the question that really makes the wheels in my head spin is this: Was it really part of fate's plan for me to go on and agonize me, or am I really just that lucky?
So, what d'you think? Please review! :)