An alien hotel room. Laid up in bed. It was a good way to understand past occupants, societies, life. A bad way to understand oneself.
Two nights ago I fell off the bed. Fell flat on my face. Missed the side table by a couple of inches. Hurt my nose, my thigh, my upper arm. I touch it; it feels hard and tender. Life is full of contradictions.
My friends suggested -- besides wearing a helmet and armour, of course -- that I should sleep in the middle. I hate middles. I believe in extremes. There is something about being in the middle that is disconcerting, displacing and even humiliating. Middles don't give you an opportunity to experience the edge of the cliff.
How debilitating and numbing it can be to be in the middle and find emptiness around you. If you are pushed on one side or you take one side you know. You may be thrown off, as I was, but it is your little corner, your place, your ecstasy.
I did not really experience the fall. I was asleep. Then I lost sleep. I watched my pain. Yes, you can watch it if you have the vision for such things. I watched as the bruise reddened and grew and then turned blue. I watched as dawn slithered in through the curtains. I watched as my feet felt heavy enough for me to know I had them...hah...sometimes I forget I have parts of me.
Sometimes I forget I have me.
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Okay, I have removed the ban on anon posting for now...the message has been conveyed. Besides, is there any guarantee that 'real' people are real? I feel so unreal...