Unless I told you, you probably wouldn't know that, for almost a year after my first car accident, I thought I'd died and gone to the Bad Place.
Despite impacting my steering wheel hard enough to bend the steering column, I was unbruised. There was blood and matted hair in a crack on the interior of my windshield, and there was blood on my face, but they couldn't find any laceration to explain it. The only injuries I suffered were a few small cuts that refused to heal for a very long time, despite not being infected; I had stitches, which fell out of them, repeatedly.
My mother told me that "Somebody" obviously had a plan for me, but after the accident everything started going right to Hell (figuratively speaking). Two good friends suddenly felt uncomfortable around me, and wanted nothing to do with me; these were people I'd known for years at that point in time. My lifelong problem with focusing was suddenly a great deal worse, and I began to experience learning-related difficulties which I'd never had before; I wound up dropping out of college after my second semester, after I'd been on the Dean's List for my first. Then, there were the little day-to-day things... like, family pets suddenly took a serious dislike to me, and other animals began to act strangely (not simply afraid, but afraid, yet hateful). Members of my immediate and extended family suddenly stopped having anything to do with each other, and so on.
Looking back... all of this could easily be called a "bad couple of years, personally," as it was spread out over a long period of time with no real connecting factors (that which couldn't be contributed to an overactive imagination in the first place), but at the time I seriously wondered whether or not my family might actually be mourning my passing (or not) back in the world of the living.
Despite impacting my steering wheel hard enough to bend the steering column, I was unbruised. There was blood and matted hair in a crack on the interior of my windshield, and there was blood on my face, but they couldn't find any laceration to explain it. The only injuries I suffered were a few small cuts that refused to heal for a very long time, despite not being infected; I had stitches, which fell out of them, repeatedly.
My mother told me that "Somebody" obviously had a plan for me, but after the accident everything started going right to Hell (figuratively speaking). Two good friends suddenly felt uncomfortable around me, and wanted nothing to do with me; these were people I'd known for years at that point in time. My lifelong problem with focusing was suddenly a great deal worse, and I began to experience learning-related difficulties which I'd never had before; I wound up dropping out of college after my second semester, after I'd been on the Dean's List for my first. Then, there were the little day-to-day things... like, family pets suddenly took a serious dislike to me, and other animals began to act strangely (not simply afraid, but afraid, yet hateful). Members of my immediate and extended family suddenly stopped having anything to do with each other, and so on.
Looking back... all of this could easily be called a "bad couple of years, personally," as it was spread out over a long period of time with no real connecting factors (that which couldn't be contributed to an overactive imagination in the first place), but at the time I seriously wondered whether or not my family might actually be mourning my passing (or not) back in the world of the living.
For the Immortal God-Emperor of Man! XD




