I figure I've told the story to enough people that I can just be blunt about it - I almost died this weekend.

I haven't really figured out how to talk about it yet. I have a tendency to exaggerate and romanticize the things that happen to me - all my friends thought I was kidding - and I don't really know how I'm supposed to act when I describe it. I mean, I was this close to death. But I don't want to take my life too seriously - after all, there are a million ways anyone could die without warning, every day. It was the scariest ten seconds of my life, but they are all over now, and I am untouched. So I don't want to stretch this out for too long. This post isn't supposed to be about pity. It's about thinking.

So I should talk about what happened. Allegra was driving us up to Brandeis on the highway. About 20 minutes into the ride, a car on our right turned into our lane...on a trajectory right into us. It would probably have hit us, but not hard since it was so close. Peacock, who was sitting on the right side, yelled out "CAR!", and instead of braking for it, Allegra freaked out and yanked the car into our left lane. The quick turn at 65 miles an hour caused the car tires to lose traction on the road, and she lost complete control of the car - we zig-zagged across all the lanes of the highway for at least 200 yards, barely avoiding a massive concrete pillar holding up the bridge, almost crashing through the fence on the left border of the freeway and rolling down a ramp, and almost flipping as Allegra tried to turn the car away from danger. The car finally went into a 300 degree turn and we came to a dead stop, turned sideways on the highway, right in front of a massive truck that had mercifully stopped when he saw us skidding.

I was sitting on the left hand passenger seat, so I didn't even see the other car coming. I was not wearing a seatbelt. I had no idea what was going on until I found myself being thrown against the door again and again as the car jolted to each side.

It's a miracle that we all survived without any injury.

The accident happened so fast that I don't know if I ever reached any sort of resolution within my thoughts about it. All I remember from the ten or so seconds we spent scraping the concrete is fear: fear from an absolute lack of control. I could feel every single possible impact waiting to happen; I was convinced the car was going to flip. I did not have time to scream or reason or even understand. I was sure I was going to die, or at least hurt. There was nothing I could do about anything. No pain is scarier than that realization.

After the fact, I don't know if I'm supposed to take anything away from that experience. I don't want to overthink it and try to salvage morals that aren't really there, but I do feel a little unnerved at how quickly I was able to shake it off. Once the initial adredaline wore off, I didn't feel scared any more. I went right back into life, and I debated through the next two days. The sheer weight of what I just missed only hit me very slowly, over the rest of my weekend - I had problems dealing with it on the train ride back, but that, too, passed. I could forget it happened for entire blocks of time.

In the moment of the skid, I didn't think about anyone else other than my own fear. I wonder if that says anything about me, but I think I may be overanalyzing. I honestly believe there are people I love far more than myself, but am I selfish? Or maybe my brain really didn't think that it was about to die. Am I being too blase? Am I being too much of a drama queen? Should I be changed? Should this have been meaningful to me in ways that it hasn't been so far? Believe me, I am beyond thankful. But I didn't immediately swear to live my life to the fullest. I am still pushing myself to my physical and emotional limits every single day.

I almost died, but the important part is that I didn't, so I haven't felt the true implications. I can't say that the accident left me with a "new appreciation for life", because I don't know if it did. Maybe my appreciation for life has been at its high all along...maybe I don't take myself as seriously as this post implies. I think I wrote this post to try and reach some kind of resolution, and I don't know if I'm there yet. Sometimes I think: Everything I know could have ended right there, and it chills me to the bone. I am so glad to be alive. But I don't think it's a bad thing that I've already moved on.

EDIT: Justin reminded me of one other important thing I learned. WEAR A SEATBELT, KIDS! Even if you're in the backseat and the ride's just five minutes long. Seriously...because although there are a hundred times where it won't make a difference, you don't want to be too late at that one time it does matter.