CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM! I need you guys to read this part and tell me your HONEST opinion. Of course there are spelling errors and grammar errors that have spell checks and grammar checks and re-read’s written all over them. But this is only what you think about it.
I’d run into a pole. Typical. Why did I have to be so clumsy? Davie was always perfect. Why couldn’t be more like him? I didn’t understand. I mean, my father, was perfect and so was my mother. They’d fit together like corresponding puzzle pieces. Why didn’t they stay together? He was the peanut to her butter… and she was the macaroni to his cheese. Mom never talks about what happened, and I really never ask. All I know is she left him for some reason and never wanted to go back. She didn’t want me to be raised in that household or in the town for some strange reason. Maybe that was why she was “relived I’d had a good night and she was worried about me,” I quote from her. Back to Davie and Brad. Davie was flawless and Brad probably was too. Maybe, Brad Slagle was a figment of my imagination. Maybe I’d dreamed all of this. Maybe I hadn’t even woken up this
morning… maybe Davie hadn’t died yet… maybe I was still only 15. I knew this was impossible because I’d never believed in premonitions or glimpses of the future.
Any supersticions really, they were just some cheesy myth. But I knew I was not dreaming and all this had happened. My life was already down the tubes. Maybe
this Brad/Davie thing was all in my head. They probably don’t even have the same features. Although I had no way of knowing at the moment, because Brad and Davie’s images were foggy in my mind. For now. As soon as I opened my eyes I’d be reassured of things and how they are and how they are meant to be. And this is not how things are meant to be. When you die you either go to Heaven or Hell. There is no inbetween where you take the form of someone else’s body or you stay on earth as an animal or something like that. No recarntaion. It just wasn’t possible. It didn’t even make sense. He was either in Heaven or Hell. Heaven; hopefully. Someday we would reunite. But this was not my time. His time has come, and I thought this would be mine. I tried to fight to open my eyes but they wouldn’t. I still lay there unconscious not moving. I didn’t even feel like moving, and I couldn’t. It’s like my brain was shut off and had gone on a vacation. It wasn’t there. I could barley think and this is what I thought about. Its not like I could tell my brain to tell my eyes to open. I tried but they didn’t. I just lay there for several more seconds…minutes…hours…days… or maybe weeks. When I finally sunk back to conciousness, I was confused. What was going on? Number one, people were probably laughing at me and stepping all over me; or number two someone gracious and respectful enough had taken me somewhere safe. I thought the first. Beeps were ringing in my ear. Kids were probably snapping pictures on their cell phones and sending them to everyone they knew and sending them to their email to upload them on Myspace and Facebook. But these beeps were too consistent. Whoever was with me had no clue I was awake because whoever was there sat quiet and still without moving. But I could feel the presence of someone. I continued to lie there for a few minutes just to recoop myself so I was aware of anything that happened when I opened my eyes. I wanted to document
this in my brain. I took in the smell. It smelled very clean. Now it’s time to take in the scene. I finally opened my eyes and hoped to find a familiar face. Hank maybe. Although I really wasn’t thinking of what he looked like…nothing came to mind. I opened my eyes batting them slowly. Stuff was kind of foggy like my eyes had been dialated. The room was all white, a flat screen nailed to the wall on a stand, some “get well” balloons, and cheesy photos. I would’ve thought it was a hotel room but I had an itchy blue blanket draped over my body; I was on a hard mattress with side rails, and the pillow was lumpy. The bed was propped up about 135 degrees. I was in the hospital. The annoying beeping noise was my heart monitor. It was flying. Hank was holding my taped-hand with a needle going through my vein. I shuddered at the thought of getting in and out. “Addison? Addison!” I guessed this was my father, but everything before the accident was foggy. Before I could reply “Dad,” he’d thrown his arms around my neck in rejoicement that I was awake. His strong arms were around my limp neck. It hurt, but in a good way. My whole body ached really badly. He pulled away gently when he felt me wince. “Sorry,” he said with a grin on his face. He was so happy I was awake. “Dad? What happened?” I strained my voice, barley a whisper. “Baby, you ran into a large metal pole and fell back on your head and hit the concrete. You busted your head open… you lost so much blood; you’ve been unconscious for five days,” he winced at the last two words. “Hmph, soun

Or is it one and the same thing? Also why does one have to avoid eating cheese and chocolates?