text: There are two kinds of people: drunks, and survivors of drunks. I am a survivor of drunks. I've never liked alcohol, not the taste and not the feeling. Makes me guilty. It's like poisoning your body with something that deliberately makes you feel gross, and purposefully causes you physical damage. I'll probably never drink again after tonight. My friend decided to drag me out, even after I expressed my disinterest in drinking. She'd said "But you need to get out, you never go anywhere or do anything anymore." She's right. She didn't have me convinced until her reasoning shifted to a slight whine and she squeaked out "I miss you." Bingo. I was sold. What's one night; one drink? Maybe it'll be fun, I'd thought. I never thought to ask who the DD would be, I just knew it wasn't me. We got all dolled up, she picked me up, and we headed to the bar. And by "all dolled up" I mean I brushed my hair and wore something other than sweatpants. The night was sort of fun, but I wasn't really there. I sat at the bar on one of the tall stools that, though well into my 20's, I still felt too young to be sitting on. My mind was anywhere but in that bar. My mind was back home in bed with my penguin sheets and baby blue fuzzy blanket, watching The Office for the 6th time. I was approached by three different guys, but they all gave up as soon as they could tell I was in no way interested in leaving the bar with them. I guess sometimes your mind being elsewhere is as great a people repellent as it is a coping mechanism. I don't drink much, so after one drink of some brightly colored alcohol I was sufficiently tipsy. I didn't want to drink more so I ordered some fries and mentally checked out for the night. No more fun for me. I zoned out and stared at the T.V hanging above the bar. No football; not in season I guess. I wouldn't know, that's not my style. There was some infomercial for a big ole vacuum cleaner. The kind that's on wheels and is shaped like a barrel. It had a handy retractable tube that came out of the side, and the top opened to be cleaned out. Cool vacuum, but I wasn't quite sold. They'd have to try harder to make me think it was worth the two payments of $99.99. "Come on!" I was suddenly being dragged off the barstool by my friends and the next thing I knew I was in the passenger's seat of a car that smelled like wet dog, garbage, and pot. Fun. Once I was able to focus in on what was happening, I realized that my friend had made friends. With two guys. "Oh, no. I don't- I'm not-" I started scrambling for any excuse to leave. I grabbed at the door handle but it was too dark to see and by the time my hand found it, we had started moving. "Relax, we're just gonna hang out." My friend tried to comfort me from the back seat. I sighed and slumped down in the seat. Nobody even remembered to put their seatbelts on. When we realized that, it was already too late. I still remember Mr. Brightside playing on the radio before being jolted backwards and then sideways, glass shattering all around me. And suddenly we were tipping over in slow motion. I was upside down. Bits of glass got caught in my hair, and I imagined it all sparkly under the streetlights. Time started moving again. I wiggled my toes and hands and made sure I could move. I don't remember crawling out through the broken window onto the street, but I did. I crawled away from the car as bystanders stopped and ran over to help, a few of them pulling out their phones to call 911. I tried to get to my feet but someone told me to stay down, and sat there with me until the ambulance arrived. Me surviving was a total miracle. There's no reason I should be alive. I was the only one who survived the impact out of both cars in the collision. There are three kinds of people: drunks, survivors of drunks, and drunks that can't even survive themselves.