I had my turn signal on … there was music in the background … I see the light turn green, ease my foot off the break and onto the gas . . .
These could have been my final thoughts. And I am not okay with that. But that is not why I'm writing this article. Accidents happen, even horrific ones, but it's how we respond to things that defines us as people. Do we hide away, ashamed? Do we simply ignore things, hoping they will go away? Or do we stand up for our actions, take responsibility, and try to make it right?
We are all part of a new generation, one that will someday shape the world. I am writing this article to encourage those around me to wakeup, and consider the consequences of their actions, while taking responsibility for them.
A month before the start of my sophomore year of college, I was involved in a car wreck. Like, the kind of car wreck you don’t normally walk away from. As someone who is already nervous and overly cautious, this was quite a traumatic experience. My car was completely totaled. It was smashed in on the driver’s side, metal reaching only a centimeter away from where my legs sat, unharmed. I had glass in my eye, ugly bruises on my face and body, and a concussion. And all because a man was distracted and ran a red light.
The physical injuries I suffered were awful. It took weeks before I could walk around without pain again. But I honestly think the worst thing about this situation was how the other person handled themselves.
As the darkness fades from my vision, I wake up in my car, I noticed the faces of my father, mother, and EMTs looking solemnly into my car window. Next thing I know, I’m being strapped to a back board, and loaded into an ambulance. The drive to the hospital felt like a dream. I had almost died; that could have been the end of me. At that moment I felt so small, and my view of life shifted. I felt so fragile.
It was astounding to me that an experience that had rocked me so fully, hurt me physically, and scarred me mentally, could mean nothing to the person that had inflicted it. Though I wasn’t aware of much at the time, the next day my father told me that the man driving the truck had never even looked my way. He had spent the whole experience crying over his truck.
I almost laughed when I heard this. The man who hit me never had the courage to look me in the eye. Instead, he ignored that I even existed because it was easier for him. Most people will at least mutter "sorry" when you bump them in the hallway, but this person couldn’t even apologize for almost killing me?
Curiosity got the best of me and I got the man’s name off the police report, wanting to see the face of the person who could’ve so carelessly ended my existence. And when I found his profile, I was appalled to see he had posted a picture of his truck! The caption reading that he hoped it would be fixed with the hashtag RIP. RIP for a truck and not even a glance for a fellow human.
I’m not saying this man was a bad person, or even a less than average one. But that’s the real problem. We live in a world where our own lives, our own struggles, are the center of the universe. We are different from our parents' generation in so many important and new ways.
But along with this social ease, we have also acquired a sense of social carelessness. As the times change, and we shift away from the niceties of the past, let’s not forget to still look out for our fellow human beings. Because in the end, no matter how big your truck is, we are all that each other has.
