TL;DR - I accidentally killed a field lizard while in the thick of grief and everything hurts

 So today, I fell down while rollerblading.

I was listening to an FKA twigs song, letting its beat guide my pace. I wasn't skating as fast as I normally would - I was moving through a slip road, at a speed that felt manageable for a bump that was up ahead.

All of a sudden, I was flying. I had no idea what was going on. One moment, I was cruising, and a moment later, i was flying through the air, a silent 'ah' on my lips. I felt my heart pumping extra hard, I felt my wheels lift off the ground. My eyes caught a glimpse of the rustling trees overhead, and I instinctively reached my hands out to shield me from whatever was coming next. Even when taken by surprise, my body knew the law of gravity. Then - boom. My body hit the ground. But I wasn't done moving - the force of my weight combined with the velocity at which I was moving before I fell had to go somewhere. As my body slid across the ground, I felt my left elbow and right knee scraping against the warm asphalt, throbbing to the beat of my heart - a symphony of white blood cells rushing to my joints, aiming to put out the fires that had just exploded there.

Then, I was done moving. With the kinetic energy expelled, all was still. I heard the rustling of the trees overhead. I looked around - nobody. I crawled to the side of the road, sat cross-legged, and inspected the first source of the throbbing, my elbow. I saw dots of blood blossoming to cover a patch about an inch wide. Not too bad, I think. I roll up the legging of my right knee. I see a little patch of raw pink, a few dots of blood, the beginnings of a bruise spreading out in a blue-pink oval. Not too bad at all. I could keep rollerblading with these 'injuries', I think to myself. I look over at the spot where I had fallen, expecting to see a branch, a twig I perhaps missed as I had skated with my eyes fixed on the horizon instead of the road. What I saw immediately knocked the wind out of me, and erased any feeling of relief that was beginning to take hold in me.

It was a still, crested lizard, a common field lizard that resembled a mini iguana. A patch of blood surrounded its head, staining two inches of the road crimson. It wasn't moving.

My stomach felt like a wet sponge being squeezed by an invisible hand. My eyes welled up, and I started crying. My thoughts exploded with shame. I did that. I killed it. I killed this beautiful creature. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I said over and over. I'm sorry. My eyes were spilling over with tears, making my vision swim with circular bokeh. I kept wiping tears away with the inside of my T-shirt, in order to see the little creature from whom I was begging forgiveness. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

A jogger approached, and I felt suddenly self-conscious. I pressed my eyes to my T-shirt, frantically draining the tears which wouldn't stop filling my eyes. He stopped before me, jogging on a spot, and shook his clear water bottle. It was half-filled with water. 'Do you need water to wash your wound?', he offered with a smile that showed his teeth. His eyes were kind, sympathetic, and his shoulders glistened with sweat, or maybe water. He didn't notice the lizard beside me. He didn't know what I had done, the guilt which was overflowing my gut. I didn't deserve this man's kindness.

'It's okay, thanks'. I forced a smile back at him and waved my right hand, hoping to thank him without sounding like I was rejecting him. He turned and gained speed on his jog. I waited a short while, then I turned around to watch him go, thanking him silently. I think the saliva in his water might've added more bacteria to my wounds anyway, I rationalise, feeling a little bad for turning his kindness down.

Nevertheless, I felt empowered by this kind stranger's gesture. I stood up and moved to get closer to the lizard, keeping a safe distance between my skates and its body. Its legs moved weakly. It was still alive, but barely. There was pink jelly coming out of its neck, the cells and innards that kept it alive, now exposed to the elements. I stared at it, shocked at what I had done to it.

I heard gears turning. A cyclist was approaching, turning into the narrow slip road that I shared with my accident victim. I didn't move, and I kept my eyes fixed on the lizard, hoping to alert the cyclist that there was something there, hoping that the cyclist would see the lizard and avoid it. The cyclist didn't notice my telepathic pleading - keeping my eyes fixed on the lizard, I saw the bicycle wheel go over the top of the lizard's head, pressing the tip of its head into the road. I winced, feeling a twisting in my gut. Immediately, a clear mission came to my mind. I would move the lizard to the side of the road. It deserved to die with dignity, not to be doomed to suffer its death over and over until it was completely disfigured, its blood and guts smearing the road, its beautiful yellow-green hued skin turned grey from dirt and trackmarks.

I looked around for a suitable grave site. I saw a soft-looking mound of warm brown soil beside a strong, healthy looking tree. To the left of it, a light green bush with pink blossoms. Now, if I were a lizard...Would I prefer to die on a soft mound of soil? Or would I prefer to die in the arms of a flower bush, a dark and safe spot where I would be hidden from public view? I looked at the flower bush. Up close, it looked kind of scratchy, a little uncomfortable. I decided that the soft-looking mound of soil looked a lot more comfortable - a little breeze, a little fresh air and sunlight. That would be the way to go.

Now, it was time to move the lizard.

I looked around for something I could scoop it up with - a stray dustpan, maybe left behind by a park cleaner, or a giant, sturdy leaf, shaped like a plate. No dustpan, no leaf plate. I stared at the laminated 'work-in-progress' poster marking a construction site nearby. Would I be committing a crime if I ripped it off and used the poster to pick up the lizard? Probably. Plus, the cable ties looked too strong to rip, and the laminated plastic would be difficult to tear. I settled on using two thick, sturdy, clean-looking twigs as my tools. I would pick up the lizard with these 'chopsticks', and place it neatly on the soft mound of soil about 4 metres away. My mission was clear. I looked at the lizard. It had stopped twitching. Was it dead already? I held the twigs together in my hands like chopsticks, but they wouldn't close neatly, making them ineffective as chopsticks. I would need both of my hands for this job.

I held one stick in each hand and balanced over the lizard, trying to keep my wheels away from its frail body. I attempted to pick it up with the two sticks, but the pressure was too uneven, and it could not be lifted. I thought to myself - here I am, desecrating its body even further by poking it with sticks. Guilt prickled away at my gut. I looked around pleadingly for perhaps a paper plate that had been left behind from a picnicker. Alas, no paper plates in sight - Singapore's litter fines were too effective. I looked back at the lizard. An idea hit me - I could pick it up by its tail, and carry it to its grave site with my hands. Ok. I would've preferred to have used gloves, as I had heard somewhere that lizards may carry diseases, but I did not have any gloves. I tried to use a dry crunchy leaf to protect my fingers at first, but I could not get a grip of the lizard's tail. I decided to just go for it, and pick it up with my bare hands. It was just the tail. I wasn't touching its mouth or anything. I found my grip of the tip of its tail, and picked it up. A spasm immediately went through its body, and I nearly fell back with surprise. Was it still alive? Or was just a reflex of its heart still pumping blood to its organs and muscles, even though its brain was now dead? I stared at it. Was it still alive? I picked up a stick again and pushed the side of its body with it. It didn't respond - no twitch.

By now, I was starting to feel the burn of the 12pm sun on my back, and my throat was dry with thirst. I better finish this soon, I thought to myself. As soon as I had that thought, I chastised myself for rushing. You took this lizard's life, and you are rushing his burial, as if he were an annoying chore to be taken care of as quickly as possible? Have you no heart? I bowed my head. I'm sorry. I will do it right.

I didn't dare to pick it up by its tail again, and so I decided that I had to push it to its grave with my two sticks. I worried that the road would scratch its skin, but I was really out of options here. Short of heading home to get a spade, I could not think of any other effective way to pick the lizard up. Well, if it was truly dead, it would not feel the coarseness of the road, I rationalised. I poked it again. It didn't respond. With this new method, I could not move it very far. So, I settled for the soft grassy patch about 1 metre away. Gingerly, I half-picked it up and half-pushed it with the two sticks in my two hands, a very inefficient and inelegant method, but it got the job done. I pushed it slowly and as gently as I possibly could. Soon, I had successfully moved it to the grassy patch. It did not twitch while I moved it, and I prayed that the road didn't feel too rough and painful for the lizard, if it was still alive. At least it was off the road now. No cyclists or joggers would tread on it - it could decompose and go back to the Earth in peace over here.

I said a silent prayer on its behalf. I looked up at the sky. I pleaded with God - it wasn't my fault. It dashed out in front of me while I was rollerblading. It tripped me. But why couldn't I have gone over its tail instead? Why did my wheels go over the very part that would kill it - its neck? I thought about its death. Did it die a quick death? Or was it a slow and painful one? Did it have a family? Why had it dashed out in front of me - was its evolution too slow, was it unable to reconcile man's activity with its own wild instincts? For this lack of evolution, did it deserve to die, so as to spare its children its poor genetic pool? Or did it already have children somewhere? Is this slip road a hotspot for lizards that dash across the road at precise moments in order to get killed? Did this lizard want to die? Did this lizard know of my existence? Did it feel me carrying it to the side of the road, pleading for its forgiveness all the while? Was this the cycle of life? Did I do something wrong, or did it?

I could not know all the answers. Not until I came face to face with God Himself.

I took one more look at the lizard. Ants were starting to crawl on it. The decomposition process was already beginning. I closed my eyes and prayed that this final resting place was adequate. I thought of its body melting into the Earth over days, weeks, turning back into its constituent periodic elements. I hoped that its decayed form would fertilise the grass, that flowers would grow in its place. I opened my eyes, and turned to leave with a new sense of care. I would need to take extra care when going into slip roads. I would rather fall down and hurt myself than to take the life of another small creature.

But what about eating animals? I found myself asking. Well, animals that get eaten sustain another's life. This lizard's death did not sustain another life. It was an unnecessary death, human civilisation literally colliding with the habitat of wild animals.

I would watch the road more carefully. I would consider wearing elbow and knee guards in future. Bad things happen sometimes, and we don't know why. But it's our job to learn something from it.

I prayed that that would be enough.