Bad Side
BEEP BEEP BEEP. The sound of your alarm clock screaming in your eardrum. It reads in those dark demonic red numbers, “6:23”, as if you thought those extra three minutes would make you feel any less tired. It is the awkward wet dew filled morning, but extremely dry evening time of July that is climbing towards August on the calendar. The flashbacks from waking up this early on a Monday morning for school are keeping you in your blanket cocoon snuggled in your bed longer than your parents wished. You hear a muffled scream from the other room. “Dan get your ass out of bed and let’s go, I don’t want to be late.” Don’t you just love when your family pushes you to strive for perfection? I know I do.
Today is the day. July twenty third. We will be going on our family trip to see my aunt and uncle who decided long ago that they saw no point to live in Absecon, New Jersey anymore and packed up all their chickens, cows, and horses. Climbed to the top of a mountain in Philippi, West Virginia where there is no one for miles except me, myself, and I to talk to. A place where the mountain ranges are so vast and vibrant that they remind you of the poland spring bottle. Somewhere that anyone who doesn’t see mountains much gets their breath taken away at first sight. Which to me is perfect. To me I love everything about being at their home, except. The only problem was the ride with your father getting mad everytime he didn’t know exactly where he was every second. Your mother arguing with him because she, “can’t stand when he is ‘like this’.” Your six foot five brother laying across the back seat which was comfy for him, but you being there didn’t really seem to fit to well. While you somehow have to find your bliss while you embark on a seven to eight hour hike through crowded highways, detours, and constant stops to use the bathroom because no one can seem to time up the fact that we are stopping soon and need to all go to the bathroom so we can get there sometime today.
Disregarding all of those negative memories, I finally get the energy to scrape myself from my blankets and roll out of my bed. Looking in the mirror seeing my messy black hair and hazel brown eyes. Making sure I have my most comfortable outfit on for this never ending road trip; a pair of cushioned nike pro socks that have holes making my big toes point out, a sleeveless cut high school football shirt, and a pair of pajama pants that I got from my brother when I was about ten years old that seem to look more like shorts each and every day. I despised my clothes. Already packed up and dressed for the trip was something that I always do the night prior. Wearing your clothes to bed probably saves around ten minutes, so I was happy I could use that for being comfortable in bed before I had to break my neck in the back seat of my dad’s 2013 chevy pickup truck that seemed to only have enough room for a small child and the air he needed to breath. Ignoring this fact, me and my brother, who only resembled big foot on the days that I had to be cramped next to him in a car, piled in with our suitcases and pillows ready to sleep the hours away.
My eyes close about five minutes into the drive. I am woken up just down the road from a pothole my dad apparently didn’t notice. Not such a big deal, I will just fall back asleep in a few minutes. “Hey bud. You might want to throw on your seatbelt. There will be a lot of traffic and you never know.” My dad told me. Really though who was he kidding. I never wore my seatbelt and rarely did he, so I didn’t flinch much and proceeded to turn my music louder.
My eyes close, as I flashback to when my parents took me shopping for school. They wouldn’t let me get the jeans that I wanted because they had holes in them. They asked me if they were gonna be my church pants because they were hole-y. HAHA very funny mom and dad. After this I threw a tantrum in the middle of Macy’s because they kept taking the clothes I wanted to try on and telling me I couldn’t get them. The clothes I wanted were to inappropriate and BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, right? Well we didn’t get anything and that is why I still have hand-me-downs like my pajamas and nike socks with holes. Funny they aren’t my church socks, huh mom? I am woken up suddenly, this time by my dad’s frustration. Just as I thought my dad is beeping and yelling because we are stuck in traffic just over the toll bridge into Maryland. Eventually he gets quiet enough that I am able to get my music louder than he is. I follow a Dodge charger aggressively skating through traffic which lulls me to sleep. I close my eyes.
I am caught in another dream. This time not such a pleasant one. I am thinking of when I was much younger and my aunt first moved to Philippi. It was our first trip to West Virginia. This same place we are stuck now there was a really bad accident and my dad was yelling because Maryland drivers suck at driving apparently. I didn’t see one of the cars and a person was laying on the ground surrounded by a pool of red. Being to young and naive I didn’t think it was blood, or that anything bad ever happened in the world, but now being older I see all of the bad and much less good. I recognize the negative memories rather than thinking of the good ones with my family. I never really thank my dad for the things he has done for me, or even for when he looks out for me. This dream has really made me realize that I need to stop complaining about the events in my life and I need to start embracing them.
“CRASH.” Tires screech all around us. This time I am greeted not by my dad’s yelling, or even by his thoughtful advice, but his front windshield because I was too stubborn to put on my seatbelt. I am propelled from the pickup and thrown into the back of a black dodge charger that was swerving through traffic before. I hit the dodge’s back windshield feeling my back crack, but not in the way that you ask your friend to do for you when it doesn’t feel right. It cracked and my life was drained from my body. When I hit the glass and heard the shattering my ears rang, my legs went stiff, my eyes went black. Life itself froze for me.
Now I can’t see my clothes that I hate so much, I can’t hear my dad yelling, or hear my mother be mad at him for acting out. No more need for an alarm clock I can’t recognize it’s on anymore. I can’t even feel my brothers touch, while I hated being so crammed in that backseat with him. I can’t complain anymore and I hate it.
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