undead

wednesday night i thought my biggest blow was the one to my ego when i was cut from the shooting stars dance team at the final audition, after commuting to and fro atlanta 3 times in the past 4 days to tryout in atl and alternately make appearances as a census crew leader in augusta

then i swerved right, left, right, and off I-20, flipped three times into the trees and brush
tall grass
crunching
screaming
braced myself on the ceiling
felt the ground on the other side
landed right side up
look around
screaming
(NOOOO! NOOOOO!)
whats in my lap
my interview suit from monday
glass
phone in my hand
"XOXO"
i'd called will
he heard my screaming
get out of the car

and i did
i could
it was a squeeze, pinned between trees
but i was able
minus a tiny piece of glass in my left shin, and minute scratches on my left forearm and right palm and pinky that a cat coulda given me, i was UNHARMED

i sobbed
a lady called 911 and rubbed my back and held my hand
will called again
a man i later learned was named eddie checked the car out
they gave statements to the police

i sobbed and shivered periodically, still in my tights, number 50 pinned to my tanktop
looked around
far from the road
just missed the concrete sewer

"do you know how BLESSED you are?"
"Somebody was ridin in that car with you, girl"

why was Nobody with stefan? or katie lunn?

"survivor's guilt" set in after my initial shock, horror, and disbelief

i never saw the full extent of the car damage or the path of destruction my echo left in the shoulder in the light of day


the nice lady told police i flipped three times

i feel like everyone knows what happened but me

i feel far away
i dont believe i feel the full weight
i dont feel the full gravity of these things
because i ALWAYS emerge unharmed

will says i have some good work to do
kenny said the "higher power" didnt want me to go to waste

im walkin around like a zombie
went to work the next day
census fingerprint training
glass shards shook from my hair onto the fingerprint card
i had slept in my dirt and glass
it was in my bra
and on my face

i called in to girl scouts and safe homes
but said i'd be back next week
im barely catchin up on sleep much less processin this
i dont even know...
im mighty tight-lipped for an expressive therapist
i dont have much to say when i talk about this. mostly when i've had to call in. or when i talked to will, kenny, mama/daddy, debra.

i dont know what to make of it

i want to find pencil or stick versions of oil pastels
when we got home from enterprise there was 30 minutes left to get to michaels or wherever
i didnt want to rush

i dont know what to make of it

i have to work ten more hours by tomorrow