Hell is so "hot in herre!" No one is taking off all their clothes in hell. It's 9am and it's hot and stinky in the office and theres condecention dripping down the outside of my iced coffe. Just when you think a cliche is a cliche and "you've seen it all" and you're tired of laughing at people falling down, a woman drives by applying eyeliner whilst steering with her knees. This is what it is like living with that feeling, that moment of recognition that you are going to be hit by a car, that you are not crossing the street fast enough, that the car is looking left and turning right or traveling to beat the light. Somehow you are seen at the last minute. Somehow you hop onto the curb just at the right moment. And instead of feeling relieved, skirting death, you are crushed by the memory of your own mortality.
I am the one recieving dirty looks as I stare down the man in line with the SUV stroller. My hand is slapped as you dip yours into the fire. My breath is short as you run headlong down the hill.