This city is a hole. I've been walking down the block for about three minutes and I just became aware of this urban wasteland I've stumbled onto. The majority of the populace seems oblivious to the chaos. Sure, anyone with a brain is gonna turn and run when they hear gunshots. But does anyone really care about why this nonsense seems to happen in frightening intervals? Is this martial law shoot-on-sight bullshit really gonna clean up this city? And most importantly...what the hell am I doing here?
San Paro is known for it's street crime. Now, there isn't one spot on the planet where you won't find crime. But in San Paro, it almost seems to be an artform. It's not something that just needs to be done; it's almost a desire. Like that guy mugging that woman in the alley across the street? He genuinely looks like he enjoys what he does. That is NORMAL here. Like, I know the store is about a block down and there is a good chance I'm gonna get stabbed or shot or run over before I get there. And I knew this when I moved here. It's all my mother would tell me.
Besides high crime and death rates, San Paro also boasts low property value and the taxes on cigarettes don't make me cry. I can afford to live here. But I'm not sure I can "afford" to live here. The streets are grimey, the people are rude, and it smells like a gun was just fired all the time. I'm sweaty and anxious and scared all the time. Yet I am awestruck. I could take this menial life that I lead and really give it an upgrade. And it seems so easy too. Like that mugger: he saw the woman, wanted the money, and took it. And not one "civilian police enforcer" in sight to help her.
Seriously. There have been times where I just wanted to beat the first person that looked at me funny. Or that guy with the nice watch. I could just take it. Or that chick with the grocery bags. It just never stops. But that doesn't make me a bad person, does it? I mean, everyone at least once has wondered how easy it would be to just grab what you want when you want it. And you're a fuckin' liar if you say you haven't. Who are you? You aren't a saint. It's just part of that passive aggressive human nature.
And those civilian pigs are no different. They aren't gonna show up and try to mediate a situation. They won't try to talk about the feelings of the woman or the needs of the mugger. The enforcer pig rolls up, shoots you in the kneecap, cuffs you, gets payed. Rinse and repeat. It's no different here than any other candy coated hellhole.
So I may never walk outside and actually enjoy a cigarrete (Blend No. 27: it's what classy people smoke) for fear of getting murdered or paying off these dirty cops. And I'll probably never land a good job for the mere fact that I seem to look like "those filthy street hooligans" (old people are very blunt) But that's ok. Because, in the midst of this fear and exhileration, I feel clear. Almost tranquil.
All I've wanted to do my whole life is take care of me and mine. Fight the world that has no problem reminding me I'm not good enough. San Paro might have the resources to do it. And I'm starting to get used to the smell.
San Paro is known for it's street crime. Now, there isn't one spot on the planet where you won't find crime. But in San Paro, it almost seems to be an artform. It's not something that just needs to be done; it's almost a desire. Like that guy mugging that woman in the alley across the street? He genuinely looks like he enjoys what he does. That is NORMAL here. Like, I know the store is about a block down and there is a good chance I'm gonna get stabbed or shot or run over before I get there. And I knew this when I moved here. It's all my mother would tell me.
"Those people are sick in the head. They kill each other for fun. Why can't you move to a nice city like Lexington or Weston?"
Besides high crime and death rates, San Paro also boasts low property value and the taxes on cigarettes don't make me cry. I can afford to live here. But I'm not sure I can "afford" to live here. The streets are grimey, the people are rude, and it smells like a gun was just fired all the time. I'm sweaty and anxious and scared all the time. Yet I am awestruck. I could take this menial life that I lead and really give it an upgrade. And it seems so easy too. Like that mugger: he saw the woman, wanted the money, and took it. And not one "civilian police enforcer" in sight to help her.
Seriously. There have been times where I just wanted to beat the first person that looked at me funny. Or that guy with the nice watch. I could just take it. Or that chick with the grocery bags. It just never stops. But that doesn't make me a bad person, does it? I mean, everyone at least once has wondered how easy it would be to just grab what you want when you want it. And you're a fuckin' liar if you say you haven't. Who are you? You aren't a saint. It's just part of that passive aggressive human nature.
And those civilian pigs are no different. They aren't gonna show up and try to mediate a situation. They won't try to talk about the feelings of the woman or the needs of the mugger. The enforcer pig rolls up, shoots you in the kneecap, cuffs you, gets payed. Rinse and repeat. It's no different here than any other candy coated hellhole.
So I may never walk outside and actually enjoy a cigarrete (Blend No. 27: it's what classy people smoke) for fear of getting murdered or paying off these dirty cops. And I'll probably never land a good job for the mere fact that I seem to look like "those filthy street hooligans" (old people are very blunt) But that's ok. Because, in the midst of this fear and exhileration, I feel clear. Almost tranquil.
All I've wanted to do my whole life is take care of me and mine. Fight the world that has no problem reminding me I'm not good enough. San Paro might have the resources to do it. And I'm starting to get used to the smell.
Last edited by Mota on Tue Jul 20, 2010 7:51 pm; edited 4 times in total (Reason for editing : I goofed...)
