In a perfect world, I would be alone, just me and my thoughts. I would have to live with myself, my horrible self, and my actions that seem to define me. Being alone would be my choice because in a perfect world, everyone would be punished for their wrong doings. But maybe in a perfect world, no one makes mistakes. There would be no crime to corrupt society and no prisons to store unwanted citizens in. It would simply be perfect. “Honk!” The car horn was extremely loud considering how close it was. Even now, almost 10 years later, the sound paralyzes me with fear and guilt every time I hear it. The accident, my biggest mistake, haunts me every day. Some people say murders should be put to death, but from my experience, the torture of solitude is much worse. I had killed someone. Even though it was an accident, it was still my fault. I guess manslaughter is the proper name for it. I was driving my car, playing with the radio, not focusing on the road, when I hit a woman who was gardening around her mailbox. I bet she didn’t think planting a few flowers would result in her death. I didn’t think that changing the radio would ever cause me to spend years in prison. Life’s never what you expect, that’s for sure. After the accident, there was a trial. The jury found me guilty. That’s why I’m here, in the California State penitentiary, where I have been for almost a third of my life. Freedom, happiness, relaxation; they are all but forgotten to me. I am not empty inside though. The guilt that never ceases to consume me, is always threatening to come out at a moment’s notice. Never in my life had I imagined that someone I didn’t know could impact me more than anyone else. The woman was a stranger me, I didn’t even know her name. That did... ... middle of paper ... ...e again a free citizen, I will never regain the freedom of a clean slate like everyone else seems to have. My life had changed dramatically, and I’m not sure I was ready for it. For the first time in my life, I had to fend for myself, and it scared me. New faces, unfamiliar faces, surrounded me as I walked down the street. They were strange to me. Each one was hiding the story of the person who lies underneath. At the moment, I was really glad people had faces. It was the only way I could walk down the street without feeling ashamed for the things that I have done. My face was my protection. It kept me safe from the hypocritical judgment of the rest of the world. I don’t see why people had to judge me, they were not perfect themselves. I knew for a fact that everyone had something to hide. It’s one of the few good things that came from my long time spent in prison.
This can’t be happening thought Bill. Man I’m in so much trouble, there’s no way I can get out of it. I’m stuck. Bill had just wrecked his parent’s BMW in an accident, and they had no idea that the expensive car was even missing from the garage. And a terrible thing had happened as a result of the crash. A young woman lay dead in the passenger side of the vehicle, swarmed by medics. Bill had escaped injury, but as his body was still at the crash site, his mind wasn’t. He was in total shock at what had happened. If I only left the car in the garage and didn’t try to “borrow” it, Lisa might still be alive….Bill tried to imagine that it wasn’t real, that he was in his bed dreaming, but no, he was responsible for the destruction of his parents’ car and his the death of his girlfriend. It was as if his mind wasn’t registering, as if it was in some far away place. He just couldn’t come to grips with what had happened. This is a classic example of severe shock. The event that took place was so strong that the mind has trouble working. While in Bill’s case where he had indeed had an accident, the realism of the situation dwarfs the mind as if a small comet hurtled towards a blazing sun. But this is just one aspect of realism. The whole of realism is made up of the fact that our lives, the world, the universe, it’s all real. And as much as our minds would want to deny it, everything will stay real, and for most people they just make the best of it. But for the rest of the people, they invent new ways to get around the feeling that a wall has been placed in their path. All this goes to say that people must be original and “keep it real” to survive the physical and mental fatigue life throws at them and also that everything will always be real and we must be in touch with our minds to harvest the realness.
...a half years ago, I figured that compared to most people, I was fairly aware. Since then, the most important thing I’ve learned is how much I don’t know. I don’t know what it is like to go to class and be the only dark spot on white linen. I don’t know what it is like to have to fight mentally, physically, and spiritually to preserve a cultural identity. I don’t know what it is like to fear running at night. I don’t know what it is like to be feared if I run at night. I don’t know what it is like to live under a shroud of stereotypes. I don’t know what it is like to have people who instruct me subtly ignore me and people who sit next to me subtly avoid me.
Like so many innocent, selfless girls, untouched by the world, I forgave him. The pain dispersing through my body reminded me that I was strong and all I needed to do was heal. I would cry without tears at first, the sadness inside me so intense, that the hollowness in my heart would weigh me down. My heart’s deep hollowness was so immense, that the loudest shrie...
I unwilllingly walked through the entrance of regret and guilt. With teary eyes from what happened the night before, I didn’t know what I could say. All I thought was ‘It was an accident’ but that didn’t matter anymore.
...well aware of the laws and consequences against drunk driving, especially after destroying families due to their carelessness decision. Victims’ families entire life’s are annihilated because of the sudden death of their loved one, and they are never going to be able to reclaim their normal life, while the offender after a few days in prison reclaims his normal life. As a result of the fragile criminal justice system everyday road users share the road with repeat offenders who are highly resistant to change their manner of conducting oneself despite their previous authorization..When an accident happens, fatalities that occur suddenly can be more difficult to deal with than anticipated death because members of the family are not well prepared. Sudden losses are even more difficult to process when a person is killed violently knowing that it could have been prevented.
Commonly, vehicular collisions are considered a negative occurrence. Dave Eggers hints towards this mindset in his short story Accident. Plotted in the middle of an intersection in 2005, the story commences with the main character driving his automobile through the intersection and striking an older Camaro. The three teenagers in the Camaro are fine, but the main character notices all the damage he has done to their vehicle and he fears an unpleasant encounter with them. Dave Eggers uses irony throughout the situation to illustrate the main character’s relief. The characters’ involvement with the collision emphasizes Egger’s theme that no matter how unfortunate an incident, positivity can result.
People look at you like you’re the one to blame. They see your tattered sneakers and tangled, greasy hair, and they think they know you. But how could they? You amble down the sidewalk, keep your head down, your eyes averted. You don’t want any trouble. People are quick to assume that's what you're looking for. Your lips are chapped and your face is dirty. You cannot remember the last time you brushed your teeth, let alone took a shower. The thought makes you laugh almost as much as the thought of your old bedroom walls, the shadows cast by the ceiling fan as you stared up from your bed. You had to leave home. It was taken from you. The adults in your life shifted as you grew older, or perhaps you just grew aware. They took pills or tipped glasses or screamed at you for no particular reason. They kicked you out when you got pregnant, when you got mouthy, when you weren't all they wanted you to be. They got sadistic. They crossed unspeakable lines. You had to leave home. You are barely more than a child. At least, you were before. Now, you are homeless.
In society, any accidents are perceived as negative outcomes illustrate a terrible ending that has taken place but in reality it can be perceived as something positive in the long run. By obstructing the 2005 Camaro and the three teens, it occurred that no one was injured and everything was calm. Accident by Dave Egger represents how a bad decision becomes a point of conflict and symbolism within the theme of the story.
Nothing has changed my life more since the realization that I had to make who I was something that I chose, and not something that just happened. Since this revelation nothing seemed the same anymore, as though I could see the world through new eyes. It changed everything from my taste in music, literature, and movies. Things of a dark and pessimistic nature used to hold a strong allure for me, and yet I found much of things I once enjoyed didn't seem to entertain me anymore. I remembered the mental state that I once held and now seeing how I have changed, know that I can never return to the prison I came from.
Sentence was passed and in that moment my whole life completely changed. In the background, you could hear the people chant, “Justice has finally been served!” They don’t know me I thought. Everybody makes mistakes, right? But, where was my second chance in life. My luck, the death penalty became legal again and eagerly waiting for me to become its newest member. My palms grew sweaty as always when I grew nervous and scared. There was nothing I could do. These people wanted me to pay for what I put them through.
A guilty feeling surged through me as I snuck out of church early, but I could not wait any longer to show my friend, Jonathan, my new Chevrolet Cavalier. As I raced out of the parking lot, I heard ambulance sirens in the distance, and I felt a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach as if butterflies were fluttering around trying to get out. I paid the feeling no mind as I merged onto the interstate at Gray and headed toward Johnson City. Little did I know those sirens would change my life forever.
I remember the day well. There was a disturbance of some sort in the house of which I had taken part. I am not sure whether I was the malefactor or was the beneficiary, probably a quarrel with my brothers, but I do remember what happened thereafter. After my rebuke, I walked through the back door and proceeded to the garage. In those days, and even now, the garage was not meant for cars but for storage, so there were boxes upon boxes of stored junk. Upon entering, I moved a few boxes away, found a familiar hole where my brothers and I used to go and hide, bellied myself on the dusty flour, and crawled about three and one half feet under stored chairs and one desk to my destination—a hidden spot in the far corner of garage. None would find me there! Immediately I began to cry. “No one loves me!” and “Everybody hates me!” were the phrases that I would say. Tears flowing, I would condemn the world for its hatred and console myself with the words I knew too well, “It’s okay. You can survive though no one understands you.” How hopeless words can console is a mystery—but truth switches places with lies when you’re deceived.
When I looked in the rearview mirror is when I knew it was all over. June 25, 2013 was the most tragic day in my life. It was not until that day that I realized how much I appreciate my life and my family. I was on the freeway headed towards the Galleria in Houston, TX, passing the tall Texaco building on this bright sunny afternoon, when everything went downhill. I remember seeing all of the cars in front of me have their bright red tail lights on because everyone was coming to a stop. As soon as I slowed down, I looked into my rearview mirror to see a beige car not slowing down at all but instead looking down at his phone texting, it was already too late for me to do anything. I felt as if my life were over and there was nothing anyone could do, I was sixteen years old when I had my first car accident. I learned that I should have stayed home the afternoon I got into my first car accident. That afternoon I remember gripping my steering wheel so tightly because I was so nervous about the car behind me that I could feel all of the ridges and grooves throughout my entire steering wheel and every indention in my steering
The reckless driver hit us straight on, then “Bang!” a loud noise resonated through the air, and abruptly my body flew out and hit the pavement of the road. Everything around me was simply a white haze for a few seconds after the impact. My body felt extremely heavy and the sharp pain throbbed throughout my face and body. Lying there on the rough asphalt, I faintly heard my mom and Carrie call out to me, “Sydney! Sydney! Are you okay? Answer me! Sydney!” I wanted I speak up and answer them, nonetheless, it was useless, my voice just wouldn’t make a sound. The desperation in Carrie’s and my mom’s voices reverberated to me across from where I was lying. My mom frantically ran up to my side and hugged me tightly in her arms. Blood was squirting out of her pinky, where the top of her finger had been severed. The places where my mom’s tears fell, stung my wounds, nevertheless, it was nothing compared to each little movements that caused the pains to electrify through my body severely. Every second was hell, the pain was just utterly agonizing and tormenting. Whether it was due to the pain or the exhaustion my body suffered, my mind slowly drifted off and I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. As my eyes gradually closed, the blazing siren seemed to have grown louder little by
Mara was a beautiful girl; she lived with her mother and two sisters. Mara was very smart. She would always made sure that she was her best at very thing she did. One thing about her was that she was very competitive. She always made sure that she was the best in her class. She loved to read. She began reading at an early stage. When she was in middle school, she wouldn’t do things girls her age did. She would stay in side her home most of the time reading or doing her house work. She loved her mother and her to sister, to an extent that she would sacrifice what she has to help her family out.