Metaphors & Life · Reminisce

Car Marks & Heart Scars

So my car was rear-ended yesterday. Yeah, that happened.

It’s never happened to me before when I was the one driving, and I was so full of shock that I couldn’t comprehend what was going on. My brain couldn’t understand if it was me who hit the car in front of me, or if it really was the car behind me. It’s like you feel the large jolt, but your brain is still living 5 seconds in the past. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s amazing how shock can really numb your senses, and perception of reality in general.

Only after a couple minutes, I realized that yes, I was in fact hit by the car. I almost looked around for someone to deal with the problem. Someone other than me. An adult. Someone who was an ‘adultier’ adult than me. But it was just me in the car, just me…. (what a terrifying thought).

Unfortunately, the car that hit me took the nearest exit right in front, and drove away. And to be completely honest, a part of me was relieved because it meant I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Because once you deal with it, it becomes real (because the cracked back bumper damage wasn’t ‘real’ enough right?).

It was a real bad jolt too, I had the worst headache the rest of the day, like strained drumming in my head.

And yet I kept reliving it. After the jolt, I kept driving as if nothing happened. Silently and nonchalantly, I kept driving.

With this massive mark.

Now wherever I’d travel in the future, the mark would be there. If I’d drive to Vancouver, Montreal, New York, that same mark would be on that same car.

Until I’d fix it, it would morph into the identity of my car.

It got me thinking how many scars we as people carry around with us.

Silently and nonchalantly.

If something happens to us where somebody hurts us-friendships, relationships, parents- we carry that dent of heavy weight around with us wherever we go.

Yet after that human collision of hearts and souls, we walk away as if nothing’s happened. On to continue daily life tasks, off to keep up with the mundane. As if we hadn’t just escaped death (reminds me of Ross’s near death experience LOL).

Going on and not turning back, pretending to be superhuman. Pretending it didn’t have any effect on us.

Yet we get stuck with scars that leave permanent damage. Wherever you go, whatever you do, that once-upon-a-time tragedy will always continue to tread in your mind.

And the person who did the damage leaves. Is gone. Not always of course. But often.

Gone for you to pick up the crash pieces. Gone, as your closest circle of people dive headfirst to help heal the broken. To mold you back together. To fix the damage.

And the after-effects are sure gonna cost you.

The only difference is that our scars are internal (my car mark sure isn’t…).

And maybe 20 mins after being rear-ended, I drove by a real bad accident with airbags and shattered pieces everywhere. A flush of emotions hit hard. I remembered when my mom and little brother (him being like 3 at the time) were hit years and years ago. I remembered how scared he must have felt, how terror and pulsating confusion must’ve tranced through his tiny little veins. Thank God everyone was okay and safe. But you know? That stuff stays with you.

I already feel like bawling whenever I pass by a car crash. I always silently pray for all those involved. Those situations really are life or death, and that fact alone scares the hell out of me. Especially when you know that some things are out of your control on the road.

It just goes to show that everything is so unpredictable. We are scared of the unknown.

Yet even if the mark gets fixed and everything looks brand new, does that erase the story it left behind? Do you still find yourself stroking a faded-away body mark, pointing, “This is where I used to have that scar.”

Things may fade away in time, but their existence is never forgotten.

We are scared to walk around the earth with everlasting scars. Perhaps we get accustomed, even dance around with them, kiss them sweetly, whisper lies to ourselves to justify holding on to them.

Isn’t that in itself, the most scariest thing of all?

We have to pay for it. We always end up paying for it.

 

 

 

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