Ranting

I can handle scary movies- well, most of them. I can handle the ones with exorcisms and demons and sprits and creepy dolls. As the naïve protagonist creeps toward the closed closet door, the eerie screech of violins in a crescendo, I veil my eyes with fingers spread open wide so that I don't miss the good part.

You will find my fingers glued shut while watching movies that depict real-life events, or those that are quite possible or even likely. My stomach churns like cream solidifying into butter at the sight of gruesome torture and mass murder and barbaric acts of all sorts, executed by human beings of the same origin as you and me.

But this deep-rooted feeling transcends to more than just horror films. I felt the same churning motion within me at school today.

The accident scene re enacted for the student body is all too real. It happens every day. Every 15 minutes. I looked around and saw peers snickering and talking over the actors- coincidentally, the ones who were making light of the presentation were a lot of the kids who I know have driven while under the influence. I just can't even express how selfish it is to get behind the wheel in such a state. Aside from your obvious lack of self-respect, you clearly do not respect the priceless lives of other people. People with parents, siblings, spouses, children, friends, goals, desires... a future. Every time someone slides the key in the ignition, they make a conscious choice to trust the other drivers around them. Their whole being is rationed amongst the people with which they share the road at any particular moment; they essentially hand over their lives to others like you until they step out of their vehicle. By driving while under the influence, you are breaking laws... and promises.

I knew most of the students in the presentation, but one amongst the many holds a special place in my heart. And seeing him in the wreckage actually made my heart sink. Yes, I know it's fake, but it really isn't. Nothing makes him invincible or immune to the poor decisions of other drivers; nothing makes him different from all the critically injured and deceased victims of DUI collisions. As required by the program, no contact with peers is allowed if you were one who suffered critical injuries. I actually lost it, phone on ear, hearing "your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system" immediately after dialing his number. The last image I have of him in my flustered brain is of his unconscious, wounded and bleeding body being extracted from the ruins of a silver vehicle and taken away by an ambulance. I wish I kept my fingers closed.

And this isn't to say that I now know what it feels like to lose someone from such an accident. It is to say that I can't even begin to wrap my head around the emotional distress and trauma such an accident inflicts upon family members and loved ones of victims. I can't even last one day without hearing his voice. A lifetime of this would be unfathomable.

So next time, call an Uber. A taxi. Your mother. Because any punishment your parent could inflict upon you is better than the life-long consequences of causing an accident.

Excuse me if I'm ranting. Just don't drink and drive.