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My good friend Rich was hit by a car earlier this year, and he will be missing (and has already missed) a few months of school. He has written two essays about the incident. The first one is the essay that his friends prefer, while the second is the essay that his family prefers. He's not sure which to use. Any input?


(1)
The last thing I had said to Ryan before I set foot outside of the car was an exhausted goodbye. There was a dead silence hanging over the street. I should've taken this as a premonition of some sort, for seconds later I was hit by a car and awoke in my mother's arms, to the blaring ambulance sirens. The funniest thing about it was later realizing how significant a few extra seconds would have been to prevent the whole thing from happening. But here I am in intensive care, staring at the fluorescent lights and up to my neck in bandages.

People are hard at work taking my blood pressure and intravenously supplying me with saline. There's nothing else I can really say, now that I have the chance to say it. There's little else coming out of my mouth except apologies. I can't think straight about anything with all the pain, yet I'm being questioned by everyone surrounding me.

"How do you feel?" Some undistinguishable voice inquires. I knew my family and friends were the only ones in the room now, but my entire reality was so shaken up I couldn't be sure about anything.

"Like I just got hit by a car," I tell them, and hear their laughter escape more like great sighs of relief that I was still in good spirits despite all that had taken place.

Others are arriving as the days slowly trudge by, in states of shock and undoubted concern. I feel powerless; unable to move or even reassure them, as afraid as I am myself. All I can do is wait for another nurse to take my blood pressure, while the dense pain throughout my body lingers.

The worst part about silence is that it leaves you with nothing but your thoughts. I found myself unable to avoid dreaded silence; I came face to face with all the anxieties that would probably have surfaced sometime in the future anyway. I was plagued by questions every second: How will my injuries affect me in the long run? What am I going to do about school and college? All I really wanted to do that weekend was look for a job with my friend Jessica, but instead I ended up wrapped in white gauze under white sheets in a cold white room. Here I was, re-analyzing my life out of nowhere. I never would've expected it.

After five days I'm released from the hospital with a leg brace. Everything still hurts, and I can't think of much else but sleep. I feel ridiculous because I keep having these grandiose dreams of pulling through with a quick recovery and getting everything done faster because I have a new lease on life, as if the accident has changed my perspective on everything. I don't even consider the months of therapy I have to withstand.

Various relatives and friends call each day, each one with a little concern to express, a little prayer to offer, a little advice to give. Most tell me to take this sort of thing in stride, and accept it for what it is. "Whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger," I hear my uncle say through the receiver of the telephone. The phrase has adopted an entirely new meaning: every ordeal we face offers us knowledge that can be applied towards the future, and we can only benefit from even the most unpleasant situations. I hang up the phone and try not to worry too much about anything.

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(2)
I started thinking to myself about how the arrival of autumn is synonymous with the concept of gradual change; visually, we see a change in our environment, but more importantly, we witness a change within ourselves. As developing young adults there is an overwhelming aura of immediacy: The panic that everything we have come to adopt as being quintessentially "permanent" in our lives is about to change against our collective will, and that we are unprepared to adapt to that change.

Having just entered my Senior Year in high school, I had been overcome with this familiar feeling earlier than most. September's arrival announced that it was time to put things in perspective, decide what I wanted to do with my life, and apply my skills to that decision. I suppose the realization of this decision's importance came to me a little later than it should have, but I felt confident in the schedule I had put before myself; in essence, I had a blueprint for my plans immediately following graduation.

My friend's car came to a stop near my house, and I stepped out. It was a warm early October night and the overwhelming silence could have gone as a premonition for what was to come. One of the many components of life that I had not been informed about, and thus did not factor into my decision-making process, was how quickly one's entire situation can change. Sometimes the simplest occurrence can have an incredible impact upon one's being, thereafter altering their plans in ways they can't possibly imagine.

Thus, minutes later I find myself not applying to colleges but in an ambulance, wrapped in gauze and surrounded by medics trying to maintain my consciousness. I was just struck by a car, and had reached another climactic point in an already climactic stage in my life. For days, confined to a hospital bed, I am able to do little else but re-analyze my significantly altered situation; I couldn't think the same way I did beforehand. I thought about how I would have to miss months of school and delay my applications because of my immobility. It was another worry added to my already anxious mind, and it was enough to drive one mad.

Realizing that I could not allow this to slow me down, I vow to a quick recovery and another, admittedly slower, push forward. I slowly learn to accept the incident; it was an exhibition of the unpredictable, dynamic quality of life, and I knew that I had to take every moment as it came and learn how to live with it.

I'm released from the hospital with a leg brace and prepare for a long recovery. Various friends and relatives call periodically to express their concern and offer whatever consolation they can. "Whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger," I hear my uncle say through the receiver of the telephone. The phrase adopted an entirely new meaning: As we travel through life, every trial gives us that much more knowledge and experience that can be applied towards the future, and even if it isn't a pleasant episode, you can only benefit from it, thereby making you stronger. I hang up the phone and try not to worry too much about anything.

By Sharshar (Sharshar) on Sunday, November 30, 2003 - 12:17 am: Edit

both are good.

By Clipper (Clipper) on Sunday, November 30, 2003 - 10:18 am: Edit

I like the second one better.

By Vigo (Vigo) on Sunday, November 30, 2003 - 02:51 pm: Edit

Both are good but the second shows a bit more maturity. It's a tough call.

By Flyguy (Flyguy) on Sunday, November 30, 2003 - 03:01 pm: Edit

So I'm guessing you are Rich LOL

By Confetti (Confetti) on Sunday, November 30, 2003 - 04:22 pm: Edit

flyguy-- no, I'm not Rich. My name is Michelle.

I think the first one shows his personality better and that the second one moves too slowly. But he'll probably go with the second since you guys seem to like it better!

By Confetti (Confetti) on Monday, December 01, 2003 - 03:31 am: Edit

bump