Back in seventh grade, I didn’t really think life was all that special. I didn’t think I was gonna slip by school as an A honor roll material girl like my friends, nor did I think that I knew what I wanted to do when I got out of high school. I didn’t see the importance of living, and I struggled with it for a long time, until I had an accident during my seventh grade summer.
I work at a horse ranch in southeast Minnesota, my boss is like my second mother and her daughter is like my long lost sister, and they are basically my second family. Their names for this essay will be D and T, now D likes to take her daughter to barrel races which is always a fun time. There’s nothing like getting on a 1000 lb horse and going faster than a normal human can run and while they have to turn so sharp around these barrels.  It is thrilling, don’t get me wrong, but not my cup of tea. Sometimes I’ll go along and cheer on T at these races or I’d stay home and take care of the ranch. I knew my life was pretty good at this point and it was summer so what better time than this to take care of some horses. All of this still wasn’t enough for me.
Riding is my favorite of fun activities to do, and trail rides is the perfect type. D and T went to their barrel race over a weekend during my seventh grade summer; so they put me in charge of the farm, feeding, and watering their horses. They even gave me permission to ride this small, red four wheeler, what could be better than alone time and animals? I’ve always had a thrill to go fast so I would take the four wheeler out on this homemade track in the back, my mom didn’t like it but I wanted to be the rebellious young tween I am. I didn’t care if I went too fast and lost a little bit of control, I didn’t care if got into an accident and died. What was there to live for if someone don’t even know themselves as a person?
On the Saturday they were gone, I took the four wheeler out on the track. My mother wouldn’t come and pick me up till eight, it was seven. Showing off was my specialty too, so as the turns came up I would swing to the right or swing to the left and if I was really feeling brave I would go up the little hill on the track. Then my memory goes black, to this day I don’t really know what happened, little parts still flash through my head. Here’s what I do remember. I was going too fast and tried to swing to the right and since this track was only made by indents of the grade and was surrounded by wire fences and the only open part was the edge of a huge drop off, this wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t turn fast enough or strong enough and leapt off a bump into the ground below. Red and then black; I could see the blood on my hands before it goes dark again. Dark for a while, until I finally wake up and have this numbness in me, I’m at the farm again with my mom and she keeps asking where the four wheeler went. Life finally gave me a lesson that woke me up.
I must have led her to the drop off but when she found it, she was upset. I was still crying and I didn’t understand what happened or why. My mother still fills me in on the parts. I must have climbed back up the hill to the house, and went inside the house, she found me bloody and walking out the front door towards the car. Mom says she took me home and gave me a shower and looked for bad injuries or broken bones. The lucky part was that I only had a bruised and bloody nose plus the pleasure of bruised ribs. Since I had minor injuries my friends thought that the drop wasn’t really that high, little did they know. Afterwards when they got the four wheeler back they said the four wheeler went about one hundred feet down and I must have landed about fifty. Somehow I was spared to continue living, but for what still?
That night I couldn’t sleep, and I just kept thinking about how I thought about death, and how I almost got death. Did I really want that or was it just in my head? D and T were so alarmed when they got back and heard what happened, but I was strong and went on strong. D won’t let me drive the four wheeler alone anymore (although I don’t even want to touch the thing) and if I do, I have to wear a helmet. Life is strange at how it gets to people, and I think I understood what it wanted from me. 
After this, I knew what I wanted to do. I changed my course of action completely, in seventh grade I was closed off and distant from mostly everyone. That’s where I found my purpose, most everyone is closed off in some way or another and just need a laugh, right? I won’t be the person to just walk by someone who is struggling. I want to make life fun, and I want to have fun while doing it. During my eighth grade year I also found out what I really wanted to do, that was to become a vet. I guess it takes bad things to happen to a person before they find out what life is really for. Sometimes I still wonder how I’m here today but I don’t think much of it and just move on. It doesn’t matter anymore, I’m here and I know what my goals are. I’m in ninth grade now and still have this mindset in mind, and going to classes soon to start my long journey of being a full vet. What better way to have this purpose then to have fun too?