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 |  This is my blog & my hope, writing daily will help me see my progress and log supporters. |
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| An edited extract from my autobiography, The Invisible Man. When I was seventeen, me and my neighbour and best friend Jimmy, were at a party. It was a Saturday night, and as we were leaving, I noticed a car parked outside with the keys in the ignition. I said to Jimmy we should take it, but he didn't want to. I said something to the effect that he was a wimp. I was older than him and he looked up to me. It didn't take long before he begrudgingly agreed. I was behind the wheel as we drove out of the car park. I wanted to go to the Gold Coast, but he said no. So, instead of taking the turn to the coast, I drove straight ahead. Looking back, it was like we were being guided by fate. A minute later, Jimmy leaned over and pulled my seat belt down, clipping it into place. Unfortunately, he did not put on his own. A few minutes later, I lost control of the car. Everything was in slow motion as we crossed the centre lane and onto the other side of the road. The car hit an embankment and rolled several times before ending up on its roof with me hanging by the seat belt, which had no doubt saved my life. I looked beside me, but Jimmy wasn't there. At that point, I didn't know where he had gone. The car hissed and I could smell fuel. I tried to release the seat belt, but it was jammed. My body weight was holding it fast. A man appeared out of nowhere and lifted me enough so the belt was released. I had never been so afraid in my life. A guy I knew had stopped to help. I recognized him and told him the car was hot...that we had to find Jimmy and get the fuck out of there before the cops arrived. His girlfriend said she had seen someone run into the bush beside the road and I thought, "Thank God." I yelled out for him again but assumed he had kept on running and was heading for home. I asked the bystanders to take me home, and they agreed. Jimmy would either find his way or get caught by the cops once they showed up. They dropped me off at Jimmy's place; I said thanks and went to see if he had turned up. His sister was with a couple of friends. I told them what had happened and asked if they would take me back out to help find him, but they didn't believe me. I had a small cut on my head, and because of the blood, they thought we had gotten into a fight and didn't want to get involved. I gave up, went home and went to bed. Not long after this, the police arrived at my house. I got up and looked out the window, then hid behind the couch in the living room. Eventually, my father answered the door. I heard them speaking, then I watched as he went to my room to see if I was there. He told them I wasn't home and they left. My father then came back inside and somehow found me where I was hiding. I never asked him how he knew I was there, but his words became a nightmare...a nightmare I would never wake up from. He asked what had happened. I told him everything and that I had left Jimmy out at the accident. "Jimmy's dead son." "What? No..he ran into the bush. That girl saw him." "Son, Jimmy is dead." "NO!". But it was true. Jimmy had been thrown from the vehicle when we hit the embankment and was pronounced DOA. My life was never to be the same. ******* As you can imagine, life went downhill after the 'accident'. Jimmy had been gone for six months, and I was starting to believe I deserved to be punished for taking his life. That Karma was giving me what I deserved. I believed Jimmy's ghost was angry with me; after all, he didn't want to take that car. He deserved to live and it was me who deserved to die. I prayed to God to take me instead, but of course, I had to face the reality that he was never coming back. As time went by, I thought of a way to escape the overwhelming guilt and grief I felt. One day I got drunk and went into my parent's medicine cabinet, grabbed all of the pain medication I could find and walked to the local bush...down into a gully where it would take days to find me. I sat down with my back against a tree and proceeded to swallow seventy pills. I didn't want to spend another day on this Earth. As the drugs took hold, I fell forward and vomited, before rolling down into the creek bed below me. I vomited again and again before unconsciousness finally took away my pain. During the night, I remember opening my eyes...the night sky...stars...where was I? I heard buzzing all around me...then silence. In the morning, I vomited and tried to get up. All down one side of my body were thousands of mosquito bites. I vomited again, but this time, I managed to raise myself. As I stood in that gully, the realization that I had failed was a bitter blow. I looked up towards my shame, wanting to remain there where nobody knew. I was supposed to be found by a random walker or bike rider, reported to the police, and bagged up as another youth suicide—someone who could handle life no more. Joining Jimmy at last, happy together forever. Then, I was run over by a car. It broke my femur and for the next two years, I suffered terribly from multiple surgeries and a Golden Staph Infection. Many years passed. Drugs and alcohol took away the pain just enough to dampen my want to leave. Life was a perpetual haze. Forget why. Just get up, get stoned...no real future, nothing. They say something good always comes from something bad, and as time began to heal my wounds, I made myself some promises. To never again steal. If I found a wallet, even if it was full of money, it didn't belong to me and had to be returned. I vowed to never harm another human being. Before Jimmy's death, I was a complete asshole. I didn't care about anyone, taking whatever I wanted without thought. These events taught me so much. How fragile life can be. How easily fun can turn to tragedy. How one moment can change who you are forever. ******** A year before Jimmy died, we had both gone to get a tattoo. Although we were only in our early teens, we weren't asked how old we were. I chose to get two eagles...mirror image, with one on each side of my chest. Jimmy chose a skull and crossbones with a dagger running through the eye of the skull. He had it placed on his forearm and below were the words...Live Hard, Die Young. |
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