Popped-Up Thoughts

Few days after the death of one of my best friend's father, I asked to one of my other besties, "what if that happen to us?"

"I might've cried desperately if my parents die," she answered. 

I frowned, because that's not what I mean. 

What if the death happens to us? I corrected her in silence. 

Then, I realized that people just don't come up with the thought of their being dead as easily as I do. 

Like what I did, when I rode my motorbike on a fine afternoon few weeks ago. The clouds were still hanging after the heavy rain stopped and people were filling the roads with their vehicles. Waiting for the light to turn green, I counted along the down-counter which installed above the traffic light. 

I went across the junction when the counter changed color. So did the other riders and drivers. Including a car which came from the same direction, but a different road. 

I flinched.   

The thought popped up. 

It was me, crushed by the car which just passed me by. I could see myself lying on the wet asphalt by the right side of the road, gasping for air, waiting for death to come. A crowd gathered around my body and my broken motorbike. I couldn't hear anything nor smell the blood underneath my head. I see people's faces in a blur, they tried to lift my body from the ground, but I was numb.

I'm dying. I thought. A thought inside a thought. 

A second or two later, the picture disappeared.

I put myself back together right away and keep on riding. Just like what I always did. 

Another images of my deaths also appeared when I'm not even outside, not even when I'm in a risk of being crashed by any car. 

I might be at home, watching the rain that hadn't stopped for hours and my mind would be flown away by the cold weather, to the bottom of the huge embankment next to my house. 

I pictured myself drowning deeper, touching the sticky turf and filling my lung with water. I felt the freezing water on every inch of my body. It was light and calm. 

No one told me that dying could feel this good. I thought, as my body turned blue and floated. 

I saw my mother coming from work. She found my dead body and cried painfully. Her husband was there too, standing still in shock. 

A second or two later, the image vanished.

I put myself back together right away and watched the heavy drops turn into drizzles. 

Twenty Three

Two and three make a scary number when they’re together. Two by itself is adorable. It’s curvy yet straight and children draw a duck from it. Three by itself is funny. It’s half-circle, curly and teenagers draw boobs and butts from it.

But when Two and Three are side to side, they become a nightmare. Together, they have three gigantic mouths open facing to the same direction. Three seems like teeth of a revengeful monster trying to chew Two, and Two looks like a cursed swan which head reaching for an invisible prey. None of them are kind-hearted nor forgiving. All they want is to make the world as a bloody place full of intolerance and ignorance. Beside, no one draws anything with them together.   

I’m here though, with them as a companion for the next twelve months. I know Two. I’ve been with her during the past two years. But Three, I have no idea about this guy. I used to be with him a decade ago. I surely did make a good time with him, but I was with One too, and One was the best number ever! He was so humble and gentle. He was just my type.

I’m so nervous that I’ve been counting down the days since January. The thought of Two and Three eating me alive, chopping my head and body brutally, made me wish the time to stop, or my family to forget that I was born at all.

“Look ahead,” whispered Two. Her voice was attempting, manipulative. “The time will be stopped and you will be forgotten,” she said.

“It’s just around the corner. Hang in there,” growled Three whose vowel was as hard as metal.

I don’t know how, but I found them dancing gracefully in the center of a darkened room. Right, left, right, left. A piano was played, all in minor chords: mysterious yet sentimental. No one knows who did the play. A spotlight followed their strange steps, as if it agreed with their words.

Hang in there. I echoed and nodded.

It’s odd.

I was hypnotized.

I believed that everything will be all right. They will be all right and I will be too. We, together, will seize the upcoming year beautifully just as how they dance. Though it might seem strange and scary as how they look.  

Hang in there. I repeated.