Recently I have had so much going on I haven’t tried to write, but I feel like with this weight on my shoulders I should tonight.
Depression is killing me, everyone around me is calling me immature or “whiny”, people who are family and like my family. One of my last good friends, the only friend I actually trusted with my life, called me immature and whiny for letting what family members were doing/saying to me effect me. Other are telling me to get over it and that I should apologize for them thinking these horrible things.
Why are they thinking this? I brought up for the first time to my parents that I wasn’t happy in my car.
On September 12th of last year my old 2001 Mercury Cougar had just gotten out of the shop costing the family almost $700 dollars, my dad told me to drive it home. Little did I know why, but when I pulled up that night I saw a dream or so it seemed. A new mustang (it was actually only a 2010, with 92,000 miles, but it was perfect for me) my dad and I have shared a love for mustangs (hence why he named me after Carroll Shelby) for the longest time and it has always been a dream of mine to own one. I cried sitting in it that night (I couldn’t drive it till the next day and we got insurance on it). I had spent my teenage life in a car that I had paid for, that wasn’t very reliable and I had a little over 200,000 miles on it.
I can say without a doubt when I drove that car there was no happier time or place I would rather be. I would wake up on restless nights just to sit in her, still not believing that she was mine. The seats were tan and when I would go home it was my favorite: the seats were so comfortable, the sound system was pitch perfect, the noises it would make when accelerating/decelerating, but my favorite part of driving it at all were the looks. People would see me, a girl in a muscle car (even if it was a V6). Whether that was the reason they looked it gave me a feeling of pride for once in my car and in myself. The one things I miss is when I would go to crank it in the morning feeling the engine come to life always made me smile.
In January I had a wreck, I was going 15 mph and I rear ended another girl. Her car was drive able but mine seemed not to be. My hood was dented a little, airbag had deployed, and the grill had come off. We thought they would let us repair it but the insurance company said it was totalled. When I went to get my stuff out of her I felt so bad leaving her there she was a piece of me. I looked for a month or so for another mustang but we couldn’t afford any. I looked just for cars in our price range, I told my dad about a 2013 Dodge Dart, he got it without telling me and when he surprised me I didn’t really say anything. I was quiet because I knew my search for another mustang was over, the hours I had spent the places I had visited trying to haggle.
I didn’t do research on the car which I should have but it is know for having many problems. Now I’m just like every other person at school, a four door, fuel efficent, and 4-cylinder car. This is the first I have owned like this. It scrapes everything because it naturally sits so low to the ground, even a man appraising my car told me it wasn’t worth what was left on payments. It makes me so unhappy, I don’t like driving it.
I’ve gotten people angry at me for stating that I didn’t like it. Basically my whole family, and close friends. I had everything I ever wanted and it was taken from me.
People say I’ll be able to buy one again someday but I wont. Not while I’m young. I’ll be getting married after college and I’ll have to save up for that, a place to live, and I will probably have kids by then so two door mustang or van, wonder which one is more logical.
I have never felt like dying more then now. Everyone tells me I’m immature and ungrateful. They say to get over it. But I can’t forget how I felt and that happiness it added to my life. I’m to chicken to end it, even with it feeling like everyone around me is abandoning me.