dead at 17
haben heute in Englisch eíne Geschichte gelesen, die mich wirklich mal wieder zum Nachdenken gebracht hat!!
Dead at 17
Agony claws my mind. I am a statistic. When I first got here, I felt very much alone. I was overwhelmed by grief, and I expected to find sympathy. I found no sympathy. I saw only thousands of others whose bodies were as badly mangeled as mine. I was given a number and placed in a category. The category was called "traffic fatalities"
The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus!! But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. "Special favor," I pleaded. "All the kidz drive"When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw my books in the locker. Free until tomorrow morning!! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.
It doesn't matter how the accident happened, I was goofing off - going too fast, taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remeber was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow.
I heard a crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.
Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standig over me. I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn't feel anything. Hey, don`t pull that sheet over my head. I can't be dead. I'm only 17. I've got a date tonight. I'm supposed to have a wonderful life ahead of me. I haven't lived yet. I can't be dead!!
Later I was put in a drawer. My parents came to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this?
Why did I have to look at Mom's eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life?
Dad suddenly looked very old. He told the man in charge, "Yes - it's our son."
The funeral was strange. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward th caket. They looed at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked by.
Please - somebody - help me up! Get me out of here. I can't bear to see my Mom and Dad in such a pain. My grandparents are so weak from grief they can barely walk. My brother and sister are like zombies.The move like robots. In a daze. Everybody. No one can believe this. I can't believe it, either.
Please don't bury me! I'm not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please don't put me in the ground! I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, I'll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance.
Please, God, I'm only 17.
Dead at 17
Agony claws my mind. I am a statistic. When I first got here, I felt very much alone. I was overwhelmed by grief, and I expected to find sympathy. I found no sympathy. I saw only thousands of others whose bodies were as badly mangeled as mine. I was given a number and placed in a category. The category was called "traffic fatalities"
The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus!! But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. "Special favor," I pleaded. "All the kidz drive"When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw my books in the locker. Free until tomorrow morning!! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.
It doesn't matter how the accident happened, I was goofing off - going too fast, taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remeber was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow.
I heard a crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.
Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standig over me. I saw a doctor. My body was mangled. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldn't feel anything. Hey, don`t pull that sheet over my head. I can't be dead. I'm only 17. I've got a date tonight. I'm supposed to have a wonderful life ahead of me. I haven't lived yet. I can't be dead!!
Later I was put in a drawer. My parents came to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this?
Why did I have to look at Mom's eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life?
Dad suddenly looked very old. He told the man in charge, "Yes - it's our son."
The funeral was strange. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward th caket. They looed at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked by.
Please - somebody - help me up! Get me out of here. I can't bear to see my Mom and Dad in such a pain. My grandparents are so weak from grief they can barely walk. My brother and sister are like zombies.The move like robots. In a daze. Everybody. No one can believe this. I can't believe it, either.
Please don't bury me! I'm not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. I want to sing and dance. Please don't put me in the ground! I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, I'll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance.
Please, God, I'm only 17.
