Fear of Living It's hard to meet good people these days. That's why the day I had to move away from all my friends, some family, and give away four of my cats and my dog ​​was the worst day of my life. There was no turning back as we pulled out of the driveway and onto the open road. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay Dreading the thought of being alone in a new place with people I had never met before was like being pushed off a cliff without my harness, scared and vulnerable. Starting somewhere new wasn't what scared me, but the thought of loneliness and rejection consumed my body immensely. I had no friends, no direction but most importantly, I had no self. I wasn't myself at all: shy and trembling, I was afraid to show who I was. “This is not me,” was the phrase I repeated in my mind as I lay in bed, wiping salty tears from my eyes. Imagine waking up to perfectly covered trees covered in pearly white snowflakes and stepping outside to have cold, clean air flowing through your lungs. Now, think about waking up with the sun on your face in November and walking outside, slowly with the choking, smoky air rushing through your nose into your now infused lungs. It was like moving from New York to California in mid-November. The first week we moved in and got everything set up, my mother's best friend's daughter, who is around my age, took me on a bike ride with her. Sounds like fun, right? That's what I thought too. A great way to open up and show my wild side. Until I found out I would be two hours away from my mother. Desperate to come out of my shell… I went anyway. Friday arrives and I'm packed and ready to go. The trip up there was exciting and I got to see so much. We arrived in Apple Valley, in the mountains and camped at sunset. We were then free to stow the rhino (two-seater off-road vehicle) and take it out for a little run before going to bed. My first time was great even though we only went 20 miles per hour and only for 15 minutes. We settled in for the night and woke up exceptionally early the next morning, it was Saturday. Since the first ride was so relaxing and unkillable, I told Ashlyn to go a little faster and ride her bike over the dips... She did. I didn't mind the way the rhino wobbled over dips or leaned into turns, nor did I find holding on for dear life effective, but I made the mistake of getting comfortable as we were now going 35 miles per hour over these dips and around the corner and back again and again to the same spot. We made a slight turn fast and hard and started tipping but not in my favor. I watched it get closer as we tilted in slow motion toward the brown, dirty, dusty, hard ground. My sweater sat still on a loose screw as I pulled and begged for it to come off, it was too late. Strangling my arm under the 300 pound rhino didn't give me any immediate pain. At this point I was just worried about Ashlyn's safety. I stuck out my disgusting, twisted, helpless arm as hard as I could and reversed the hole where the windshield should have been but never was. I bend down looking for a way to get it out. As soon as we unbuckled her seatbelt, she fell to the ground, wisely, and crawled out like I had. Being aware at this point that my arm was dangling and weak, I yelled to.