The Tea Tree

So I already had to postpone exercising today. Because last night when I went to bed, almost every last joint I own hurt. And my lower back. And my inner thighs even though that doesn't even make SENSE.

I wake up this morning and ended up laying in bed because I was a) exhausted and b) my shoulders have decided that this? This shit isn't okay. This shit is going to end in a pile of knotted pain that is not solved by trying to stretch them but instead makes them hurt MORE.

Also my elbows are making their presence known (What the fuck did I do to make YOU guys sore?), my left knee is just unhappy probably just to join the fun, my neck is stiff, and all in all I'm wondering if I walked away from bed at night to sleep on a rock.

Hopefully work activities will convince most of these to unknot and sort themselves out, so I can try something low-weight-bearing tonight. But this?

This is why I don't exercise.

First off I don't get endorphins from it, ever, no matter how long I exercise for. I always just end up panting, sweating, and pretty much never with that supposed ":D" feeling you're supposed to get. I think my mother is the same way, we're just genetic flukes like that.

And second my joints can't handle it. Not even stuff that BARELY INVOLVES THEM.

FML.

Time to finish my breakfast and start working.

Tschuess.

My car.

My poor car.

I have always told people I hate to drive, that I view cars not as useful machines to get me somewhere but as deadly, dangerous things, that one little mistake could result in the death of someone.

No one died in this accident. But just because I did not pull out far enough, and did not see the 2006 Honda Civic speeding down the corner, she smashed into me as I went to turn.

Just one little, simple mistake.

The turn I was at is obscured by trees, and no one goes the posted 25 mph speed limit. She was probably going at least 40. It's okay. So do I. But I didn't see her, not once that I can recall, and pulled out. I don't know what I did. I remember nothing of the actual accident. I just remember staring at my car smashed up against the other car's right taillight.

My first thought was to go into reverse, pull myself off of her car and free the road. But when I went into reverse and stepped lightly on the gas, my car crunched forward. I put it into parking and, horrified, walked up to the other car. The driver was alive, unharmed, and crying hysterically. A witness called 911, and slowly cars began to drive around us, about a quarter of those who passed by slowing down and asking if we were okay.

The other driver had forgotten her cell phone and I let her use mine. It took me ten minutes to realize I could call my father since I couldn't get in contact with my mother -- her key had snapped in the ignition and so she wasn't even available.

At one point I just sat down and started crying. Of course, the police came shortly after that, and seemed to think I was delirious. No, officer, my life is just THAT strange to have my mother's car being towed, and my insurance card resting at home, since my car had been in the shop almost since I got home.

My cousin came to get me, and he had gone to school with the girl whose car I had hit. I looked at the damage. Her passenger-side headlight was gone. What remained, down to the tire, was smashed and crumbled metal and plastic. I remember scrapes, dents, and scars leading up to where my car was stuck.

The other driver told me to turn off my car, as it was leaking fuel all over the road. I put my keys in my pocket afterwards without even remembering doing so. Everywhere I stepped, my shoes met plastic, glass, metal remains of headlights.

I remember wanting to cry when the tow truck pulled the cars apart. The bumper of my car trailed on the ground, leading a thin white line on the road. My first thought was to warn them about it, but I said nothing, realizing how useless that would be.

Apparently this was the third accident this girl had had with that car alone. She had decided to get a new car, since that one was apparently jinxed.

The police officer gave me a warning. There was a bit of ironic hilarity when, as I explained I had been stopped at the stop sign, the officer had to actually make sure there was a stop sign there. I had already taken blame for it, and I still do. I pulled out, so it doesn't matter if she likely hit me first. It was my fault.

And I HATE it.

I have very poor depth and distance perception. I have a wandering right eye, which is likely the reason for the perception issues. I really can't tell how tall something is, or how far away it may be. I have never had a real desire to drive. My parents forced me to get my license at 17. I have driven only from time to time since, as I do not bring my car with me to school.

This incident only makes me more certain that I should not be on the road. But no one will grant me that wish. If I am going to be an engineer but still live in the rural suburbs, I won't have much choice but to drive, unless I find decent public transportation.

But I'm still going to hope that someday, people will realize that putting me behind a large, fast, dangerous vehicle is a dumb idea, and will finally stop pushing me to "just get used to it" or "get experience" and realize that after the equivalent of two or so years of driving, I have gotten no better.

Did I mention we owe around $200-300 for the repairs my car got before the crash? I had just been picking it up, and had just looked at the cost and thought "Oh, that's no big deal. I can afford that."

And then bam.

Now I have no damn car to get to work, and I feel like in this family I am forced to just smile and nod. My father tells me to "keep smiling".

I'm tired of smiling. I've rarely felt happy since I've gotten home. I hate being home. I don't hear from any of my friends from Cornell, as if I just wink out of existence for a few months. And I don't have enough friends at home to make up for it.

I don't want to be told to smile. I don't want to hear some false happiness about how our family can figure it out.

I want someone to actually acknowledge that maybe I exist, maybe I'm lonely, and stop feeding me happy shit. Because false happiness? It has a terrible stench.

And it doesn't help me anymore.

(Man, imagine if I wrote AG right now? A house would probably fall on Rose May and Mahli as they walk to the coffeehouse. I'll be good to them, I promise.

Also I am perfectly aware that maybe I should try telling my friends I miss them, no need to repeat yourselves KTHX. Honestly, I have no clue how I'm supposed to go to these people and go "Hey, how are you doing, how's your summer, please talk to me" without seeing stalker/desperate/rude, but hey)

Tschuess.