My Biggest Screwup (OR: What now?)

These words are coming from a young man who's scared, who's dreading whatever it is that is about to come down. I could've seen this coming and yet I chose to go on. I've scared the hell out of myself and I know it's only going to get worse.

Basically: I got pulled over by a cop in Madison County. This isn't horrible. Bad, inconvenient, yes. And why was I in Madison County? I know about as well as you do. Did I mention that my license isn't in my wallet? He was able to look up my information, thank god. But that really, really won't help matters.

At one point, he asked to search the car. Few people have ever seen me when my nerves are completely frayed. I'm skittish, I stammer, I'm a like Michael J. Fox on a caffeine drip. And naturally, he's bound to wonder why I'm so skittish over a traffic ticket.
Simply, you have to realize this, and that's where things go sour: I already have a citation on my record, the accident I had back in November of my senior year. Combined with this, that without a doubt means that I'm off the family auto insurance.

This means I can't drive.

This will mean plenty: what, I don't know. I'm begging and pleading that I can still go to King's Island next week. Past that, my social is about to die. I'm nervous, beyond that...I've just screwed up an already fragile future for myself, and all for a nice little "relaxing trip."

I should have gone to Erin's.

What exactly will happen, I don't know. I'm waiting to break the news. But I know that it will be miserable, it will be painful, it may absolutely break me.

In other words, the shit is about to hit the fan.

Kersplat.

[So, it's right after midnight and the news was broken a few hours ago. It wasn't horrible, at least not as bad as I was anticipating. I was expecting some decibel increasage, and whatnot, but none. It was more the generally depressing form of total disappointment. More my dad's style, really. The yelling on this one will come.

As for me, I was practically banging my head in Potter Puppet Pal fashion, muttering "angst! Angst!" the entire evening. Not a fun sight.]

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