write a diary on strange day of your life.......(in brief)
Answers
Answered by
1
it started off pretty good! I had fit for life option in the afternoon and that’s alwasy good fun, we got to watch a movie in French class, I had plans to go shopping that evening. I got on the bus at 3:02, at 3:06 I heard sirens. A few emergency services vehicles sped past my bus in the opposite direction. I didn’t think much of it.
My mom got home from work and we left for the local mall since it was June and I still had no shorts and kept basically overheating at school. We shopped, I don’t find much and I was standing in Ardene when my mom shows me a news article on her phone. “13 year old boy struck by van in (neighbourhood where my school is)” my heart drops because I know it’s someone from my school but I reassure myself since it says 13 and 95% of my classmates are already 14. It’s probably a seventh grader and I was in eighth grade. I probably don’t know them since my school has over 700 kids. I continue shopping.
I get home from the mall and plop my shopping bags down on my bed. I get my phone out of my bag and click on Snapchat. I start watching everyone’s stories because I haven't seen any all day. I giggle as I watch a youtuber’s cat try to eat a bottle of nail polish. I see a picture of a sunrise with a time stamp. I keep watching. Suddenly an all black screen with the words “Rip D.M. We will miss you” and an angel emoji. I can’t think of who D.M. is so I ignore it and keep watching. I see black screen after black screen after black screen, and all I see is text littered with “We will miss you Darian” and “My deepest condolences to the Mar family tonight” I do not believe it I can not believe it. I will not believe it. I have no words. I stand up off my bed and look at my face in the mirror. I can't do anything except repeat “Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god over and over and over. I can't breathe. I can't move from this spot, standing, staring in the mirror. My face is red with anger and disbelief and sorrow and every emotion in between. There are streaks of black all over my wet, read face because I cried all my makeup off and wiped away my tears with my hands. I don’t move for 45 minutes, I just stand there sobbing uncontrollably.
By 9 o'clock, I've had time to calm down. The class group chat on instagram is blowing up with soft, sad messages. Nobody can cry anymore. Nobody's body has any more tears left. We all sit there, typing out our favourite memories, mourning our friend. Still in utter shock and disbelief. Just a few mere hours ago, he scored four home runs in kickball in fit for life class. I had always associated death with old people, lying in hospital beds for month and months and slowly dripping away. Never before had I associated death with a kid who scored four home runs in kickball. He died on his bike ride home from school, I knew he the exact way he would go to get there, he taught me all the shortcuts. I never thought of death like that. Until now. I sit on my bed with a kleenex clenched in my hand and remember ambulances and police cars rushing past my school bus and thinking “oh wow, there must’ve been a bad accident.” but not thinking much more of it. Now I sit here in a ball of blankets and tissues typing memories into my phone, not believing any of it.
The next morning, the radio speaks of the incident right as I drive past the scene on my way to school. I look away, I'm not ready to look at the police tape. It was a chilling morning of mourning. Nobody knew how to cope. The school board brought grief counsellors. I ran out of tears that day too.
So there you have it. The worst day of my life
My mom got home from work and we left for the local mall since it was June and I still had no shorts and kept basically overheating at school. We shopped, I don’t find much and I was standing in Ardene when my mom shows me a news article on her phone. “13 year old boy struck by van in (neighbourhood where my school is)” my heart drops because I know it’s someone from my school but I reassure myself since it says 13 and 95% of my classmates are already 14. It’s probably a seventh grader and I was in eighth grade. I probably don’t know them since my school has over 700 kids. I continue shopping.
I get home from the mall and plop my shopping bags down on my bed. I get my phone out of my bag and click on Snapchat. I start watching everyone’s stories because I haven't seen any all day. I giggle as I watch a youtuber’s cat try to eat a bottle of nail polish. I see a picture of a sunrise with a time stamp. I keep watching. Suddenly an all black screen with the words “Rip D.M. We will miss you” and an angel emoji. I can’t think of who D.M. is so I ignore it and keep watching. I see black screen after black screen after black screen, and all I see is text littered with “We will miss you Darian” and “My deepest condolences to the Mar family tonight” I do not believe it I can not believe it. I will not believe it. I have no words. I stand up off my bed and look at my face in the mirror. I can't do anything except repeat “Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god over and over and over. I can't breathe. I can't move from this spot, standing, staring in the mirror. My face is red with anger and disbelief and sorrow and every emotion in between. There are streaks of black all over my wet, read face because I cried all my makeup off and wiped away my tears with my hands. I don’t move for 45 minutes, I just stand there sobbing uncontrollably.
By 9 o'clock, I've had time to calm down. The class group chat on instagram is blowing up with soft, sad messages. Nobody can cry anymore. Nobody's body has any more tears left. We all sit there, typing out our favourite memories, mourning our friend. Still in utter shock and disbelief. Just a few mere hours ago, he scored four home runs in kickball in fit for life class. I had always associated death with old people, lying in hospital beds for month and months and slowly dripping away. Never before had I associated death with a kid who scored four home runs in kickball. He died on his bike ride home from school, I knew he the exact way he would go to get there, he taught me all the shortcuts. I never thought of death like that. Until now. I sit on my bed with a kleenex clenched in my hand and remember ambulances and police cars rushing past my school bus and thinking “oh wow, there must’ve been a bad accident.” but not thinking much more of it. Now I sit here in a ball of blankets and tissues typing memories into my phone, not believing any of it.
The next morning, the radio speaks of the incident right as I drive past the scene on my way to school. I look away, I'm not ready to look at the police tape. It was a chilling morning of mourning. Nobody knew how to cope. The school board brought grief counsellors. I ran out of tears that day too.
So there you have it. The worst day of my life
Similar questions