Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

BASICALLY A VIEW OF THE WORLD:
I stepped out onto the road, slightly dizzy, and my skin bleeding. Stumbling, and in a daze, I fell upon the open road. I can hear the roar of an oncomming truck, but I dare not move, I dare not move at all. I lie there, waiting for the pain, waiting for the impact. I can hear the cries inside, but by now I can't move, In wont move. I want to die, I cannot die, I will not die. But why? Why you ask? Well, it's simple. Simple as why I cannot save those who need help. By now I started to cry. I tried to sit up. I put my weight on my hands and knees, but by now it is too late. It is too late, now I have been hit by the truck. My blood splattered accross the rough terrain of the road. My body, supprisingly still in tact, skids among the road. I lay on my back, my body scarred, half alive. I look over to my side, at the pool of blood I now created. I hear the faint screams of on-lookers, but did they help me? Did the truck even dare to stop? Did no one care? No. So now I don't want your pity. Do not scream like you acctually cared. Do not let my bloody presence scar your memory. By now I am expected to die. I catch a glimpse of the truck driver running over to check my dead corpse. But am I dead? Do I breath? Yes, for now. Who ever chose for me to die is making me suffer. Is what I did so bad? Am I really meant to die? How could this be? I cannot breathe. I do not live. I let out one last tear, and my blood ran cold.