When It Rains... It Pours.
Lightning flashed illuminating the sheets of rain pounding down in vast torrents. Thunder roared and crackled, making my eardrums ache in protest. It never stops. Well, right now, it sure seems that way. When it rains it pours, I thought to myself. I chuckled and remembered the well used line, significant for the weather, as well as other situations in life.
My car seemed to grow more and more agitated, the engine letting out whines of protest as I drove. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to drive in this weather, but I didn’t care. I had to get away from the chaos and noise of the apartment I shared. Why did my friends always have to do this? They knew that I wouldn’t be able to get over her by drinking. Seeing the gyrating bodies plastered up against each other in my bed wasn’t helping the situation either. Parties were just a mess these days. Most people ended up with a 48 hour hangover and vomit stains to remind them of “what a good time they had”. Frankly, it seems like a waste of time to me.
In fact, everything was a waste of time. Ever since she died, my life… was just a waste of time. I hit the gas pedal just a little more, felt the car move faster, and heard the continued squeals of protest from the engine. The rain pounded on the roof like a drum, sending sound vibrations through my ears.
Looking into the downpour, I couldn’t even tell where I was. The once familiar streets looked strange in the weather. The rain seemed to be an omen, making everything seem dark and dismal, and I found it quite comforting. The road seemed to twist before me, becoming more and more difficult to maneuver, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was wrapped up in my memories. Sweet memories... sweet denial. Bliss.
The rain hit harder on the roof of the car. I was growing quickly irritated by the hammering noise. It was almost if the sound seemed to call to me…call to me in a voice that I understood but could not respond to. And just when I thought I might be able to handle something in my life, I lost control of the car.
The car seemed to force itself into a hard left without my doing. It swerved off of the path, pushing past the barriers on the road. My hands clutched at the steering wheel, trying desperately to gain control of my path as the car swerved again. I didn’t see the guard rails, and in an over correction, I slammed the brake pedal to the floor, but to no avail.
My car collided with the metal pole in front of me, and I could feel pressure throughout my entire body. I was being pushed down, down into something I was unfamiliar with. Everything stopped. In this moment I wanted to laugh at myself, due to the disillusioned thoughts running in my mind. I had clearly watched too many movies. I had the 'white light' complex, or the thought that my “life” would flash before my eyes. I didn’t see anything but the other person in the other car. It was stupid, to think that when a person dies they are able to relive their entire lives. You can't. Trust me, I would know. And even if I had that chance, there was a snowball's chance in hell, I would go through puberty again.
You can ask how I know this. I am sure you are wondering. How I know exactly what happened. Well, turns out, (and I could spin you a story about "floating out of my body and seeing the whole accident from above" but that's just a load of crap) I don't know HOW I know. Ironic, right?
Then it leaves you wondering how in the world I am aware of this. I know this, because I am already dead. I can see the cogs in your mind, trying to process how I am able to write this, if I'm deceased. I couldn't tell you the exact mechanics of it, but who could. Its not everyday someone writes an account from beyond the grave.
At least we are together now. Audry and I, that is. And where we are, I couldn't tell you. I don't know myself. It's nice though. Clean, and dry, and for once in my miserable life... its not raining.
