as close as you could possibly get

A day with me.

I was lying on my bed, trying to stay asleep. In the meantime, somewhere something was trying to keep me awake by showing me pictures of dramatic fall from the stairs out of nowhere down to nowhere. After surviving falling down the stairs for the third time I decided to get my subconscious to stop bullying me before I get a brand new phobia. At that point I wondered what would be the word for the fear of stairs? It turned out to be named "climacophobia", and I thought that the "limaco" part of that word is somehow clumsily cute. Also, I discovered that if you rearrange the letters just a bit, you will get "iia choco lamb", which is certainly comforting.

 

After reading enough about people getting traumatized in all possible ways by this extremely foul and quite old (they are believed to appear around 6000 BC) creation of human desire to feel higher than they are, I turned my attention to the wall, the closest reachable object, apart from my depression (that was a joke, I'm not depressed). My wall was white and cold, and I found someone's hand dancing on its surface. She wasn't mine, because my fingers aren't that long and beautiful. She looked very anxious and didn't know where to go; she was taking peace in desperate trying to repeat my moves, stretching and transforming it according to her very own dimension. I think she was lost, way too lost to realise it even. I took a photo so someone can find her someday.

My mother dropped in my room. She said she doesn't want me to be sad. That's good, because I really don't want her wanting me to be sad. That would make me really confused.

Sadness is the most gentle feeling that we can experience towards ourselves, that's what I thought next. Pain, happiness, excitement and boredom are too brutal, too primal. Sadness is sophisticated, melancholy is the greatest luxury. It's like blue cheese, and sadness is the mold growing through it. For an undereducated man of a surface it would be a flaw, but that exact flaw is also what makes it a delicacy. The connection is obvious, there is no way no one has thought about it before me: feeling blue, blue blood, blue cheese. It's relative, see? I might be a genius.

Then I drew a little cute picture. I placed it above these lines, and I really like it. A little tiny place of my own, it doesn't even have any curtains - why would I bother, if no one's watching me from the outside? I wanted to read something to confirm my deep devotion to wasting my day away, but my phone rang then. 

It was a wonderful man whom I've seen whole four times, and who's seen me only twice. We spent some time of ours drinking alcohol on the phone, time too short to justify the difference between us - too big to ever feel like living in the same world. Excitement of a human contact and alcohol took over, and the desire to have more of both started to grow bigger and bigger on me. Both are poisons, both are addictive. Both are something to live for, both can destroy you if you do. The man will ruin me, but that's just what I want. It's still better to be ruined by someone beautiful then to ruin yourself on your own, regretting not giving in.

These thoughts led me to abusive listening to the songs I can't relate to, but I like to imagine that I do.
There's something unfair about those. For a long time I thought (sometimes I still do) that no one ever feels anything, because clearly I did not. Everyone's just pretending, that's what it felt like. Blindly searching their role, finding the script purely by intuition, reading it without knowing the language and playing it selflessly, like the last damn thing they've got in this life. What am I even talking about?

This is basically about my day. Two hours of my warm blood circulating intensively through my very own body.
I could've written 10 times more, but I was afraid to sound too fun to hang out with.
(just joking, everyone already knows I am)
My days are alike. All good. If anyone wants to the the chairs I sit on, or know how I smell without smelling me, or which tree I say hello to every morning, you may express your wish anywhere I have an ability to detect it.
I will go away drinking milk now.
Be nice! Good night.