Everytime Death manages to cross my path it generally remains 20ft away. Today was one of those serous days of old. Back in high school there were those nights I couldn't sleep, and the following day, it always seemed like my mind was underwater, and time was a current flowing by. I staye dup all night last night studying for the math final I had today, and this morning whilst I was pumping gas into my car, death crossed my path again. This time it was guy, maybe a year or two older than me, who had been struck by a car. It took me a second to figure out what happened. There were police blocking the street, and I saw one damaged car and then noticed a small crowd of people gathered a little ways down the street. Though at first I couldn't see the guy, I realized what had happened upon a closer look at the damaged car. The windshield in front of the passenger side war smashed in, and the driver of the red mustang stood beside it, crying. I watched the crowd as I approached the window to pay for my gas and then I saw him. Laying face down on the road, in a small puddle of blood. By the expressions of the crowd, and the general sense of the air, I could tell his outlook was grim. I small part of me wanted to watch as they loaded him in the ambulance, but I guess a certain respect told me not to. I felt like at least half the people in the crowd were the Dane Cook idea of "Where's my shoes! Fuck it, I'm going out shoeless." I didn't want to be a spectator, I mean I don't think I'd like it if a crowd of people witnessed my death and went around campus telling all their friends "I saw this kid die today, yeah, he got hit by a car and flew like 30 ft and cracked his head open. It was bad."Incidentally, I would estimate the distance I was from him when I saw him was about 20 ft. away. I'll tell the other stories from 20 ft from death in my next post.
This thought disintegrated at 4:16 AM