Really quick, before I post it, I know it's small, but it is a writing exercise. The point of these is to just write what comes out without stopping for any more than five minutes (excluding, of course, bathroom breaks and stuff). I want to develop my writing, and this is the best way to do it, I think. So, here you are.
Somehow, when the car struck us, I lived. I didn’t expect to; after all, I was the one sitting closest to the impact point. Still, amazingly enough, despite the complete destruction of the front right side of the sedan, I survived, though I wasn't uninjured by any means.
I suffered three broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken radius bone (that would be the forearm, for those of you not in the know), a broken nose and a severe concussion; it was so bad, I was in the hospital for three weeks straight (first in the ER, then the Intensive Care Unit, then in Paediatrics, then in the Psych Ward. I knew that hospital like the back of my hand.). I couldn’t remember my name, my address, my hair colour, my parents… nothing. Everything had left me, but it was all there at the same time. Everyone came to visit, telling me that they hoped that I’d get better and that they believed in me. They all came and told me that they cared, and I had no idea who they were. Still, they came, so I figured that they really did care about me. I was wrong. In two weeks, the only people who visited me consistently were the nurses and the doctors.
The people who came to see me lied to me. They didn’t care, and the only reason I could see that was because I had no idea who they were. I couldn’t rationalize with, “oh, well, they’re busy this week” or “he’s got a really busy job” or anything like that, so I didn’t – I just looked at the facts and came to the conclusion that these people didn’t care.
On the fourteenth day, my memory returned to me. I didn’t want to have survived. I still had my memories from when I had no memories, and I realised that no one really did care. I wanted to go back to my happy, blind delusions. I was angry, too; why hadn’t you come to see me? Why weren’t you there? After a few hours, my anger subsided into contemplation. Maybe you’d been injured in the crash, too? Maybe you were bed-ridden?
Somehow, when the car struck us, I lived. You didn’t.
