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Sometimes I get these cravings I don't understand, to strip naked and sit in the shower until the water runs cold. Till my flesh turns blue. Till I'm a mess of cold... just to remind myself I'm alive.
You can't really forget that your alive, but you can forget what it feels like to be dead. When life becomes so close to death you can't tell the difference between the two. When you feel so much for so long that nothing shocks you any longer.
That's what it feels like to be dead. To patiently watch the hands on the clock slip past slowly. Where everything comes in two speeds fast forward and slow motion. Where you are suspended between awake and asleep. Where you feel as though you float.
I wonder sometimes, if that's what people who jump off buildings thought, over morning coffee with a paper you can't read. Bad news again today. I wonder if perhaps they're floating, like tiny grains of sugar slowly disolving in the brownish black liquid driping down their throat slowly with painful heat. I wonder if we're all like that. Floating in the center of a cup of addiction. The only stimulant that propells us forward...
F L O A T I N G
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Very sad, but well-written.
