I woke up, opened my eyes, and stared at the ceiling with a sinking feeling in my stomach. From that moment I could feel in my core that it would be a bad day. I shook it off, it was Saturday, the one free day of the week, and I was going to let nothing, nothing spoil it.
I kicked off my covers with a new enthusiasm, swivelled my long muscular legs out of bed, and placed them on my floor. I stood up, and crumpled. My leg was stabbed by a crusty breadknife of pain in my calf, and I sat down again with my eyes swimming.
'Great' I thought, I’ve been awake mere minutes, and already I’m looking at the ground. I felt a rumble in the pit of my stomach, ' and I’m hungry' I exclaimed, exasperated.
I struggled to my feet, once again, and breathed deeply to jump the hurdle of pain which seared in my lower leg. Blocking it from my mind, I walked downstairs, and found, that as I walked the pain eased. I smiled, looked up and silently thanked above. Of course, with the prong that floats around the world, I didn’t see the hoodie on the step below, and slipped and went tumbling down the stars.
The day was not going well.
Unfortunately it only got worse... there was no cereal downstairs, and I didn’t fancy toast, so ate nothing. I got a call from my supposed best friend, telling me 'she knew what I did’ .that threw me completely, for I had done nothing, so I asked her to explain. in amongst the ‘f*cks, sh*ts, you complete b*stard’, and other such pleasantries. I managed to comprehend that I had supposedly hooked up with her boyfriend, and now he was dumping her, leaving her, her world had ended. Blah, blah, blah. I snapped. I had had an awful day so far, and I was not taking the heat for a false accusation.
I said many a thing which should not have been said, and with the beauty of hindsight, I wish I could take them back. But I can't, so I lost a friend on that fateful day.
I flounced out of the house, closing the door with admittedly more force than necessary, but I didn’t really care. I walked, in a cloud of aggravation in the direction of nowhere specific, just wanted to clear my head.
And I did.
A big eighteen wheeler truck came speeding down Shooters Hill, and being blinded by my aggravation I stepped into the road.
Three weeks later I’m still in hospital, with these thoughts trapped in my brain. I cannot move, I cannot speak, I cannot even breathe without assistance, but I can think. I’m trapped by my own stupidity, and I wish, with every thought, that I could change my actions on that fateful day.