accidents.

The worst thing about accidents is this: they always happen too suddenly. You walk slowly around a corner, and out come this motorbike with a rear box full of pizza hitting you on your head. Yes, you did walk on the pathway. Yes, a motorbike on a pedestrian pathway was an anomaly. But then that is exactly what an accident is. An anomaly. Like miscalculating the distance from the ramp to the pathway at the end of your bike path – that was an anomaly as well. Speeding up. Also an anomaly.

So there I was, feeling my head scraping dirt on the concrete pavement and thought. Or rather, tried to think. All that came to mind was that I had to stay in that position for the longest time. Didn’t even know why. Maybe in hoping that time would turn back if I stayed? My bike laid still not too far from my body. Something came out from my mouth, wet and cold. I was chewing on a bone. No, not a bone. It was a chip – a chip out of my front tooth.

With blood. I coughed.

I signed the pavement (and the bottom edges of your pants) with my blood. Squirted, rather.

One day I was just riding leisurely. The next thing I know was that I was on the ground, sitting, and my butt was painful. The first thing that came to mind was, no, don’t move. Wait. Wait. The motorbike riders fell a few meters in front after hitting my bike from the back. People started to come and tried to lift me up. I said, wait. Wait. They thought I was a foreigner, a Japanese maybe. I said, in Indonesian, wait. Wait. They waited.

After the two accidents, I think I definitely can empathize pain better. Earlier today I was walking to the Maison de la Culture, and a lady slipped and almost fell down in front of me. She didn’t, but I cringed nevertheless. I could feel the potential pain. When I arrived at this hotel, I turned on the TV to check out how TVs sound in French – there was this movie trailer that started quite mild and ended up with people shooting each other with guns. I turned the TV off. Blood has more meaning now than merely a monthly period. It could be fake blood, whatever, I know the pain. Maybe not exactly, but I know.

Every time I feel my pain I know that all these pain might come again as my body deteriorates. If it is only possible, I want to go back to the second before the accident, and change everything. I know it is not. I know that life goes on. And I prefer it that way.

The best thing about life is this: you never know what will happen next.