Abandoned Phantom
Member
- Oct 3, 2025
- 89
Storytime: I walk out to my car, I sit down in the driver's seat, the same place I sit every day. I push my key into the ignition. I start her up and go for one last drive.
I wake up in a strange place. An uncomfortable bed, a tube in my mouth, a doctor on my right, my mom on my left. "Where am I? What is this place?" I think to myself. The doctor looks at me and mumbles something. I cannot hear. I realize where I am. I close my eyes, I wake up, a new room.
They tell me I was in a car accident! That I have 2 broken feet, some fractured ribs, a fractured orbital, a TBI, and double vision. The trauma surgeon rated me a GCI-3 when I arrived at the hospital. I lay in my bed for a month, the occasional trip to the window in my new wheelchair.
Time in my fluorescent oasis nears its end. 2 days before my release, I remember… I remember why. Why I'm here in this bed. I don't remember the night, but I know what happened. My eyes flood and my throat tightens! How could I have done this! How could I have hurt her [my mom] so?
[End Storytime]
Some time ago, I deactivated the driver's side airbag, the one in the steering wheel. I thought, surely if I hit this concrete wall going 80-90 mph, there's no way I survive! It's 1 in the morning; I sit on the side of the road and say goodbye to all I hold dear. I merge on the freeway, and as I round the last turn before my exit, I press on the accelerator and approach my target speed! It's not time yet, so I slow to normal freeway speeds, (This is what I did on my practice runs. This is what I practiced doing every weekend for a few weeks in a row.) The crash investigators estimate that I was going closer to 30-40mph when I hit, based on the damage to my car. This was not the plan. I wonder if survival instinct kicked in at the last moment. It probably did.
I tried to minimize the pain for everyone. It was supposed to be a horrible accident. It was always going to hurt them, but maybe it would hurt a little less. And now? The worst thing I can do to those I care about and care about me. I can't even imagine the pain. A mother isn't supposed to bury her son.
Every day I ask why, why couldn't it have worked? Well, maybe not every day. Over the past 8 months, there have been a total of maybe 30-40 days that I'm happy to be here. These are days that my mom and sister and I have gone on little day trips. I can still feel some joy in things.
I don't want to "get better." I hate this world we live in; I largely hate who I am. I just want it to be over. I just don't want to be here. I'm not living for me; I'm living for them. I hoped it would be the end. But it wasn't. I don't feel overly depressed, though some days I do.
I started seeing a therapist because I figured there was no other way out. Since I'm stuck here, I might as well feel better. I'm re-evaluating this idea. I don't want to be stuck here. I don't WANT to hurt anyone, but I'm done living for others.
The plan for the next chapter of my life is to move to a new city, where my best friend lives. I don't want to move there. But I can't stay where I am. I've agreed to this plan because they still have no idea about my "accident". They don't know that I have no intention of living long enough to see it come to fruition. (would happen in the first weeks of January 2025)
I wake up in a strange place. An uncomfortable bed, a tube in my mouth, a doctor on my right, my mom on my left. "Where am I? What is this place?" I think to myself. The doctor looks at me and mumbles something. I cannot hear. I realize where I am. I close my eyes, I wake up, a new room.
They tell me I was in a car accident! That I have 2 broken feet, some fractured ribs, a fractured orbital, a TBI, and double vision. The trauma surgeon rated me a GCI-3 when I arrived at the hospital. I lay in my bed for a month, the occasional trip to the window in my new wheelchair.
Time in my fluorescent oasis nears its end. 2 days before my release, I remember… I remember why. Why I'm here in this bed. I don't remember the night, but I know what happened. My eyes flood and my throat tightens! How could I have done this! How could I have hurt her [my mom] so?
[End Storytime]
Some time ago, I deactivated the driver's side airbag, the one in the steering wheel. I thought, surely if I hit this concrete wall going 80-90 mph, there's no way I survive! It's 1 in the morning; I sit on the side of the road and say goodbye to all I hold dear. I merge on the freeway, and as I round the last turn before my exit, I press on the accelerator and approach my target speed! It's not time yet, so I slow to normal freeway speeds, (This is what I did on my practice runs. This is what I practiced doing every weekend for a few weeks in a row.) The crash investigators estimate that I was going closer to 30-40mph when I hit, based on the damage to my car. This was not the plan. I wonder if survival instinct kicked in at the last moment. It probably did.
I tried to minimize the pain for everyone. It was supposed to be a horrible accident. It was always going to hurt them, but maybe it would hurt a little less. And now? The worst thing I can do to those I care about and care about me. I can't even imagine the pain. A mother isn't supposed to bury her son.
Every day I ask why, why couldn't it have worked? Well, maybe not every day. Over the past 8 months, there have been a total of maybe 30-40 days that I'm happy to be here. These are days that my mom and sister and I have gone on little day trips. I can still feel some joy in things.
I don't want to "get better." I hate this world we live in; I largely hate who I am. I just want it to be over. I just don't want to be here. I'm not living for me; I'm living for them. I hoped it would be the end. But it wasn't. I don't feel overly depressed, though some days I do.
I started seeing a therapist because I figured there was no other way out. Since I'm stuck here, I might as well feel better. I'm re-evaluating this idea. I don't want to be stuck here. I don't WANT to hurt anyone, but I'm done living for others.
The plan for the next chapter of my life is to move to a new city, where my best friend lives. I don't want to move there. But I can't stay where I am. I've agreed to this plan because they still have no idea about my "accident". They don't know that I have no intention of living long enough to see it come to fruition. (would happen in the first weeks of January 2025)
