A Losing Race by Keyanna Hutchinson

I managed to tip toe around the tension that evening. Everything was running smoothly. It seemed like my mother had nothing to nag me about or annoy me with. The dishes were cleaned but I had a cup still in my room. I thought "should I risk it"? Should I leave it in the room thus avoiding an argument and also having to wash it or should I leave it alone in the sink. I left it in the sink. Not long after did I hear the ground shake and my dresser drawer trembled. It wasn't an earthquake, but close, it was my mom. Over the years I've realized sometimes the only way to deal with an ignorant person is to just abide by their commands just to avoid getting angry. So I proceeded to the kitchen to wash that one cup. That one cup that I'd most likely reuse again in the morning. But like I said sometimes you have to deal with an authorities ignorance. Knowing my spiteful ways, my mom peeked her head out of the end of the hallway to see if I'd actually wash the cup. Disgusted by her face and beaty eyes, I snobbishly mumbled, "God, why are you so paranoid?" she became enraged as if I've never told her worse. I warned her to get away from me numerous times. She was in my face and I just couldn't take it anymore. Clawing at my face, digging her grotesque dirt sharpened nails into my greasy skin gave me the final assurance to unleash my fiery rage and so I mustered up all the energy I had and released it. I had sent her flying.  The crash landing ultimately broke 1 of the 2 wooden chairs. I'm guessing she felt embarrassed

 or defeated because she continusly attempted to provoke me. "Bitch". "I will fucking kill you!". Her words didn't threatened me. They never really do. More so annoy me. I realized this was the final straw. I couldn't be around this negativity and ignorance much longer. It was draining me. Drained all my tears, patience, and heart. So I grabbed what I felt were necessities. My guitar, amp, a pick, my iPod, a notebook, a pen, a few clothes, and all the cash I'd made from playing in the subway. It didn't even cross my mind to say goodbye. Even if, it wasn't good anyway. The only people I might've miss were my sister and brothers, and a few good friends from school. As you've might of guessed I am a musician but mostly an artist. I've always had this miscontrued fantasy that California was where I'd end up. All the cliches fascinated me. I thought I was just happen to be there, become a hippie, form a band with friends that I'd meet, make music, and tour worldwide. That's what happens when you throw all of you in your fantasy, reality grabs right out and throws you on the cold hard ground. It hurts. But I didn't care I was determined even if the odds were unlikely or my self doubt were to get in the way. Forget the hippie stuff, that was extra I just wanted to make music. True music with people I liked and share similar views with. That's all. It isn't too much. So out of my $263 crumpled singles, I deposited $87 for a bus ticket to Los Angeles. I could've turned back. I really could've. I could've returned home and my mother would've eventually got over it. But this was a repeating cycle. Sure we make up, but we're gonna argue and fight again in the future. You'll curse at me and I'll say something sarcastic. I was over it. Hopped on the bus, luckily it wasn't that crowded. I was able to put all of my belongings on a row to itself while I leaned my chair back and took up my own. For the first time I felt very mature. I never thought I'd be making my own decisions. Atleast not now. As the bus began to move, I began to cry. I couldn't figure out why I was crying. Which is so frustrating. So many things have upset me and instead of opening up, I shove it in the back of mind. Finally it had overflowed and I couldn't take it anymore. Plus I felt comfortable crying because no one else was in the back of the bus. But I also felt uncomfortable because nothing could or would cheer me up. Not even music, sweet music. The only good that comes out of crying is the naps that follow them. Usually I'm hardly ever prepared from anything but I was truly unprepared for what would happen next. I hear loud sirens, outcries of terror, I saw bright red constantly flashing and when I actually got up I realized the bus had turned over. We had gotten into an accident. The first half of the bus was wedged into a tree while the back where I had resided was on fire. I was so startled and scared. So many things were happening at once. People were asking me "Are you okay?", obviously no. I saw trucks, ambulances, police cars, and death approaching. I had just realized I was severel injured. Having so much adrenaline in me I didn't feel the physical pain but I certainly felt emotional pain. All I did was cry. From then on I don't remember anything. I woke up in a hospital with my mother, brother, and sister standing over me. They were sobbing. But it was a sob of relief because I had finally awoken out of this coma. Weeks later I had healed and the life I once knew and was satisfied with, returned. I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing but I didn't care.