(from the archives)

Fridays are a plethora of impressions, a crazy psychedelia of emotions. It is that instantly suffocating smell of smoke I’ve never gotten used to, the headiness of a slight alcohol high I’m constantly playing hide-and-seek with, the giddiness of meaningless jokes & deep conversations sleeping together. It is not being able to tell green from blue, periodically getting stuck in turquoise.

I feel suffocated in groups larger than 3. I live a crowded life but that’s just moving through masses of breathing carbon. The real people are the ones greater than rituals, more meaningful than furniture, more unpredictable than habits. They make me feel. Too much. No more than 3 at a time, please. It’s positively decadent. Like starving through the week then feasting like a glutton. A person could die of that in the non-metaphorical world.

I had to leave the room. It was like being in the pool, trying to stay under water, dealing with burning eyes & lungs feeling like they’d explode. A movement at the corner of my eye making me wonder if there were magical creatures underwater. Tearing for breath, like even being aware of utopia meant I must be expelled from it. Breaking the surface of the water just in time to forget such stupidity. But I never really forgot. This is what it feels like.

Walking out was instant clarity. Great gasps of free air. The grand tapestry crystallized into a sepia film. I knew I never wanted to be a part of that other world. I watched the sea across the road, for how long I cannot tell. The cars zoomed past not real; a running film I could walk through if I chose not to care about tearing the screen. I wish I could live like this – close to the surface, able to sink when it gets to be too much, never too far to surface for breath. 

My phone buzzed with a text. Blurry-eyed, I saw myself move slow-motion. “Come back.”

Without another thought, not a backward glance at my sepia film, I returned. Love is everything then. When it tugs at me, no matter how close to utopia I am, I come back to the turquoise.


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