Most every human has been haunted by some sort of event that has defined them. In fact, the most hollow and petty of people will almost always lack an experience that has given them a true sense of perspective; to them, the everyday "drama" has a bloated sense of importance. One might say a lack of priorities. But I digress.

A preface: This isn't quite my life story, but it's up there. I apologize in advance for any long winded-ness

As I had alluded to, I myself have some things that haunt me. There, I said it. It's not always easy for people to talk about, but I somehow feel strangely comfortable talking to a completely anonymous internet crowd such as yourself, Nutang.

When I was 14, I lost my right eye. My eye and sinus cavity were completely crushed in on the right side of my face, as well as several broken bones in the facial area beneath.

Time's gone by since the incident for sure. The surgeries I underwent were pretty remarkable in and of themselves. I have a prosthetic eye that was actually hand painted to match my left eye and custom fit to my now repaired socket. I have a scar down my cheek but it is virtually unnoticeable as it only looks like a small creasing or bag under my eyes (which I have enough of to blend in anyhow). The recovery was the fastest of some of the few operations I've been through.

Despite and through all this, I have learned so many things about myself, life, and others. I've learned about trust and the people who truly count in my life. That definitely counts for something.

However, I have developed some post traumatic stresses.

I've had small bouts of depression through my teen years (which are going to be over on the 24th of this month), but I can mostly chalk that up to angst, and the normal shit every teenager has like not getting along with your dad (I was too punk/alternative/indie/underground for him to ever understand me).

The most common effects I experience from PTSD are anxiety, situational reactions, and minor flashbacks.

Anxiety is just a bitch. I do okay at cessating the panic attacks with cigarettes and marijuana, but I really wish I could cut the nicotine, that's just too much of a crutch. Weed however, does help me sleep, think tangentially when examining my life, and generally soothe my nerves.

Situational reactions are embarrassing, but mostly rare. If I get smacked or hit with something in the face, I can completely black out. I'll remember bits and pieces, but all I can really remember is a primal fear and rage. I actually threw a friend to the ground and started kicking him one time, from what I was told and can remember (no one got hurt, it was winter and there were big coats). It's a pretty fucked up experience every time, but it's also taught me some things. I can now hold myself back fairly well, and am more observant and prepared to avoid any such incident.

The flashbacks are a little less rare. Sometimes I can block them out by toking a little and reading a book or the news, but sometimes you just get hit with them full force.

Well, After all that buildup...
Here's your flashback.

I was 14, I had just gotten back from spring break with my family in Gulf Shores. While I was in Alabama, I bought a toy water-balloon launcher. The kind where two people hold the sides, and one person pulls it back.

I had brought this new toy of mine over to my friend nearby's house, and we were launching bouncy balls; this progrressed to launching whatever else we could find.

We found ourselves on a boat launch dock by the side of the grand river, a short walk away. We thought it would be a good idea to launch rocks we had found and see how far we could go out over the reservoir. A man and his son were out for a walk and saw this, and he thought it would be interesting to help us and see how far it could go. I may have blocked this from my memory, but after that, I only remember pulling the pouch back and instantly feeling a thud. The rock had gotten caught in the pouch, and it came back into my face at full speed. The man immediately took off his shirt, put pressure on the bleeding, and got someone to call my parents and the hospital.

I would relive you through more details than that, but I really don't wanna talk about the rest. There are 500 details to that part of the story that I've relived in bits and pieces, aside from the messy stuff after that. It was the fact that it happened all at once like that, and it will never leave me. One second is all it takes. Had I turned my head a few degrees, it would have been a hit to my temples, and possibly my life.

One of my many internal conflicts with this lie in the unresolved. My friend JT, who was there through all of it, has since grown up with me. The man however, I never met. He did not stop at the hospital. Had he sent roses or a card, I would have no idea what happened to it, or could've shrugged it off as a relative I'd never met. People seem to send you a lot of that crap that shows they mean well, but in my opinion, why couldn't just show up and give someone a hug instead?

On a pessimistic side, this man is one-third the reason I had lost my eye. I don't follow that train of thought, but the facts are there. He chose to hold that side of the launcher. However, he also could have conceivably saved my life. Giving his shirt and calling for help was selfless and instinctful.

I used to be angry that he never tried to get in contact with me, possibly out of fear of a lawsuit or shame. But more and more, I realize that he is still responsible for my existence in some ways, and for who I am. He had a decision to act and he didn't flinch.

What troubles me more is this: does he still think about what happened that day? Does he regret never saying anything or making contact after that day?

Or, am I something that haunts him, too?




I really hope to meet him some day. I'm not sure what I'd say- "I forgive you", or "I'm sorry".

I know for sure that I'd say this-

"Thank You"

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Carpe Noctem.






(omnia dicta fortiora si dicta Latina!)

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