i am on a cab. everything honestly feels like a blur. i have forgotten what it’s like to feel the alcohol run through my veins, to feel it gingerly on my fingertips. i am in control and not entirely. i think of the blotches on my face due to the omnipresent asian flush and i do feel slightly self-conscious. did they see the flaws in my make-up application? did they notice how widely i smiled compared to my usual subdued and overly serious persona? i am still on the cab. i did not realize how quickly we have travelled from point A to point B. i called shotgun and everything is wide in perspective. he, the driver, is driving extremely slow and i find myself drumming my fingers on my laptop. hurry up, i think. but “is it possible for you to drive faster” i ask.
then in my head i visualize him speeding. finally. we are moving faster. but then we hit a car. and there i see myself in the bird’s eye view that i had when i read the bell jar many years ago. lying on some pavement, my body is contorted but i can’t make out my facial features. maybe the skin has been torn off or maybe i actually didn’t look at all.
it flashes in my mind for a second and then it’s gone.
it was real, wasn’t it?