Something I've never told anyone

 When  I was in my early 20s I saw a pretty bad car accident. 

I was living on the streets in Santa Rosa and I stayed behind this old brick building in the shady part of the city. I liked it because my mom was always obsessed with old architecture. That fascination was passed onto me. Plus in that part of the city there was an old security guard who always kicked out sleeping people. 

It'd be like 30 degrees and raining and when you finally fell asleep... dude was there. Always. And always he'd start with "Hey. How ya doin? You were sleepin pretty good there. Yea so you gotta go or I'll have to call the police". 

Fuckin hated that guy, but behind that old brick building he couldn't find you. 

Anyways, I used to go over to the liquor store every morning to buy a bottle, and considering how stressful sleep is to a homeless kid I always rose before the sun. 

Just better to get up when it was still dark so you could protect yourself from all the people who spit at and attack homeless people. 

So I'd get to the liquor store before they opened. The city has changed now, but back then there was an old telephone pole across the street from the liquor store and I liked to lean up against that while I waited for the liquor shop to open. 

I did this daily. It was my routine. 

One morning when I was walking down the street I noticed that in my bag there were Pringles. I must have gotten the chips in a black out because I don't remember getting them. They were a flavor I'd never seen before. I think parmesan or some cheese type shit. My curiosity got the best of me however and I just HAD to try these chips despite a raging hangover. Homeless hangovers hit different. 

So I stopped right there, opened the chips, and was pleasantly surprised at just how good they were. I decided to have more. A homeless breakfast for champs.

I was eating chips and kinda just lookin at the telephone pole and daydreaming of a better life when all the sudden this fuckin minivan blew through the stop sign. Fast... 

This lady hit that telephone pole full speed without even an attempt of stopping. 

When I've told people this story I have sorta censored the content and tried to make it funny. I kill trauma with jokes. Thats just how I cope with shit. I'd tell people that "that's the day junk food saved my life". Which is true. I never would have survived gettin caught between that car and that pole. 

But this shit wasn't funny. It was like 5:30am and it was just me and this car. 

I stumbled forward trying not to puke. 

I could hear the woman inside fuckin SCREAMING way before I got to the car. 

When I reached it I saw how hurt this woman was. Blood.... everywhere. Screams? Even louder than my mom when she'd come at me as a kid. 

Seeing somebody hurt like that is just something else dude. Its fuckin sad and scary. For me I've always tried to be a fun loving goof ball, but for me, when you see somebody in real pain I'd always just feel stupid and worthless.

 I was in that moment. 

Her face was smashed and the bones in both her arms were sticking out. She was looking me square in the eyes. So obviously wanting me to help. But I couldn’t help her. 

All I could do was ask "are you ok"?

Dumbass question bro.

Obviously no response. She was just looking at me screaming in agony. 

I told her "try not to move". 

I'm an alcoholic. I'm a drug addict. In a blackout I had lost my phone. It wouldn't have mattered anyways because back then I couldn’t afford service and even if I had service I couldn't keep my phone charged. 

I couldn't call help for her. 

When people finally showed up I couldn’t help them either. I was blitzed dude. I could barely walk. 

When help finally showed up I just sat down.

As I sat I started realizing how I was maybe a minute, minute and a half tops, from getting killed that day. 

Does that make me selfish? 

Probably. 

But regardless, and I never told anybody this. 

I fainted.