Sometimes you get hit by a speeding 18 wheeler when all you were doing was standing on the corner waiting for the "walk" sign to flash so you can get moving to wheverever you were trying to get to.

Ten seconds later you're numbly thinking to yourself, "Holy shit, what just happened?"

One minute later you're realizing just how much those sort of things hurt.

Three months later when you're out of your hazy coma you wonder why it happened to you and are a bit angry about it.

Six months later you stare at your broken body in a renewed state of unhappiness and morosely think that nothing could ever be normal again.

Ten months later, you realize you're jaded and that no one really cares, so you settle into yourself and block out everyone else. You also come to the understanding that the past is never relevant to the here and now.

One year later as the scars begin to take on a more permanant shape, you try to regain some of your old self, but wonder if you can look at standing on that corner the same way ever again.

And as the years melt away into the distant past it becomes less and less relevant as you assimilate back into the assumed state of complacement "normalcy". Yet, every so often, you'll take a good, hard look into the mirror and slip into memories of when you were a whole person, asking yourself what the chances of lightning striking you really are.