Do you ever think that life cannot get any worse but then it does? That is what is happening in my life. My hair is so frizzy this morning and I cant even keep my eyes open because I stayed up writing. Ugh.

“Taylor, you're going to be late!” my mom yells.

“I'm coming!” I exclaimed.

She thinks I take everything for granted. Maybe if I just give up. I walk over to my desk, filled with papers, and throw them all in the trash next to it. All my poems and stories gone. I leave the room, to come face to face with my mom.

“You need to manage your time better.” she states.

“It doesn't matter anymore.”

I slam the door and get in my White Honda Civic, I received for my eighteenth birthday. The weather is foggy as my mother's understanding. I can barley see a foot in front of me. I hear my phone buzz. I haven't checked it all morning, which is new for me. It's Matthew and I'm excited.

*I'm waiting for you with Starbucks!*

Before I can even take the time to smile, I hear a loud crash. I throw my phone down and an airbag flies in my face. I slam into it hard, I was in such a hurry this morning, I forgot to put my seat belt on. My phone and college notebooks fly through the air, along with me. My car tumbles and tumbles. I just close my eyes and wait for it to stop. I'm scratched, torn and tossed around like the words I wrote last night. The pain in my right arm is unbearable. I want to scream, but I can't. So I bite my lip and slowly black out.

The lights of the hospital light up my brain. I weakly open my eyes to see a doctor and my mom. She cries beside me. She has clothes I was wearing this morning in a bag, and I'm wearing a hospital gown. I move to touch it, when I notice my right arm is gone. Completely gone. My mind goes wild, and I scream.

The stabbing pain starts begging and my head throbs. My mom holds my only hand, while it's hooked up to an IV. I come back to reality. I start crying hard, from the pain and the fact that my life is forever changed. I feel as if I woke up from the dead. I need to calm down. My heart is racing and I need to calm down.

“Did anyone else get hurt?” I finally ask.

“Don't worry no one did.” my mom explains.

“Well where's Matthew?”

“He's in the waiting room,” my mom speaks softly.

“She needs to eat.” The doctor says.

I want to ignore looking over to my right but my eyes always wonder over. I used to always run away from my problems, but there is no getting out of this one. The doctor leaves and a nurse brings in chicken broth and water. Disgusting. I just drank the water, my mom gave me sips of it, afraid I would spill it. I'm going to have to learn how to do simple every day things in life with my left hand. I am right handed. I can't eat, I have no appetite. I look at my right arm again, and see the same bump at the end of my elbow.

“Why do bad things happen to good people, Mom?” I try not to cry but my lips keep twichting and my eyes become watery.

“It'll be okay Taylor.” Matthew comes in and comforts me.

“No it won't. I can't do anything for myself now!” I yell and start crying.

How am I going to keep my college grades up? How am I going to write? Matthew and my mom start talking. I hear “oh no's” and “not enough rooms.” I'm guessing the doctor told them they can't keep me in the hospital because they need more room for patients. I do want to go home but then again I don't.

The doctor comes in hurriedly. He takes my IV out, re-patches my stub of an arm with gauze which I couldn't stand to see. The pain stings through my whole body when he touches it.

“Looks like your arm is beginning to heal up fine, should be completely healed by next month. You get to go home early.”

I've probably been in the hospital more than I realize, I was either sleeping or crying. He gave me some medicine, another sleeping pill I suppose.

When I awake I'm in my bed. My first morning out of the hospital. I don't even remember walking to my bed. I hear my mom and Matthew talking in the living room. I need to get up and brush my hair. To put some cute clothes on and do everything I used to do only with one hand. Simple right? I get up and drag my body to the mirror on the top of the dresser. My long brown hair is all tangled. The color of my blue eyes really pops out. My freckles are fading because it's fall and the sunlight is going away. My bones are weak and the patch on my arm needs replaced. I am not the same person I once was, with a smile on my face and two arms. It takes strength to smile now.

I pick up my brush and attempt to brush my hair. It feels unnatural to do with my left hand. Then, I walk over to my desk. I know Matthew will be heading to my room any minute to make sure I'm okay. But I look over to my desk and my laptop. A week ago I sent in one of my poems, to be published. They pay you $1,000 if you're the top winner. I threw that poem in the trash. I walk over and get it out.

“Story of My Life”

By: Taylor Jackson

I sit on my bed,

Me, Myself and I go head to head,

I need some strength,

I need more time length,

I struggle to smile,

All my papers thrown into one pile,

I secretly write,

In the darkness not the light,

Words cut me and the paper like a knife.

This is the story of my life.

I decided to get online. I check my Facebook first, my mom has made a page on their called, “Prayer's for Taylor.” Many people have joined and I'm surprised. My mom has people trying to send her money from that. Matthew has put something on their about a prosthetic arm, without even talking to me about it. I wonder how many people will be sending me gifts now. It stresses me out. So I log out and go to my email. Fifty new emails. Mostly junk is all I see. Then there's one, that stands out. I click on it,

“You qualify to be the winner of our poem contest. You will know in the next few days.”

For once I smile. I yell for my mom and Matthew. They tell me they have gotten many gifts and dollars from all kinds of people that are hearing my story. I plan to keep the prosthetic arm in mind for the future. This is the story of my life.