I gazed out from a friend of mines porch over looking the city scape, with my eyes concentrating as the cars as they pass by like worker ants. I thought to myslef what it would be like if I lived in the apartment. I questioned myself about what I would do, if i would go out, and so on and so forth.
As i came upon these thoughts she said:
"See, that intersection down there?"
I looked to where she was pointing, a brightly lit intersection, that was the collector of cars that had come from the freeway, it displayed many signs, like the signs you see when you know that there's a camera waiting to take your picture as you ran the red light.
A gas station was near by with gas prices that soared above the limits like hawks waiting to catch their next prey.
I peered out and couldn't help but to think if she witnessed many accidents.
"Yes, I see it" I claimed.
"there are accidents that happen everyday there"
As she just explained, the crunching of metal sounded off like a warning shot or a pistol, it was a good sound though.
It's vibrations carried throughout the city streets, so a clean and crisp sound, it registered in my ear as something so beautiful, but oh so deathly.
I watched as the two drivers involved in the collision crept into the parking lot of the gas station.
The drivers both got out of their cars, screaming and fighting about who's fault it was.
We could hear them from where we were.
As the argument got heated the police came to the rescue to figure everything out.
As I drove home in awe of what I had just seen,
I realized that someday, if Iever return to that apartment, it would become a normality, the sound of metal crumbling like paper, the screaming and the yelling, the gas station sign, the emergency lights flashing.
I don't know exactly why I'm writing this,
But I do have something to say:
Maybe I could get used to the broken-heartedness
Maybe I could get used to it.
It's awlays been that way.
So, maybe, I'll stick around that apartment for a little longer.
I don't want to become numb.