6 am the alarm goes off. I sit up in my bed, the darkness glooms over me. The nightmares persist as they sink deeper into my mind as each night passes. I get my breakfast before the others have woken and I eat in silence. Replaying the therapeutic thoughts I was told to tell myself when the days get rough. “At least you are okay”, “It is over and the physical pain is only temporary.” Not very therapeutic in my mind, but the words still stand true. My cast will be off in a week and it will help the recovery process. Sort of. Not really. My parents don’t look at me the same. I’m a charity case. They hate seeing me like this and have trouble coping with the situation. I no longer go to school. I barely go outside. I can only sit in silence. Nobody plans to have their lives turn out this way. One second. That’s what it took. For me to no longer have the freedom to live the life I was granted. The end was abrupt and unfair. How could the one time, the one moment, the one text, cause more than one problem? Now the things I once loved are gone. The fun and eventful memories will no longer be there as they are replaced with thoughts of uncertainty and depression. I have gone away. Away from the person I once knew and the life I once lived, all due to the recklessness of being distracted. I have gone away to the lonely cell in which I now call my own. Because for just one second, I thought my text was more important than all of the lives around me.