Backed up and hit the pole and scraped my front fender right off in the back parking lot of the city library. It didn't feel real and it still doesn't feel real now. Parents said it'll be ok. I don't think so. Then again, I'm the one who smacked around my car, so what do I know?
I'm back home now. Dad tied the front to some metal bit on the inside and it was good enough to drive. So I drove, and someone passed me on the right, and I cared only a little bit. I'm almost proud of myself for not glaring them down, crazy as I feel now, crazy as I felt when I hit the pole. You know I didn't even feel anything until my parents said it was ok, back home? Well, at least I know my tear ducts are working. Only a little bit. Just a little.
I was going to make a drive to UCSC this Wednesday. Get a real damn good tour of the real damn good place. Fuggedahboudit. Maybe I'll walk into campus blind. See it all new. I could board the bus but do I want to? Then again "want" has no bearing here. If I have to I will go.
