I feel physically detached from myself. I feel the blankets and the mattress, but I feel my body as though it’s not mine. Like I’m hanging out in this flesh suit for a while. Like I’m trapped in it. Like I want to be out there falling through the sky or floating in it. In this night air. This dark air. Unconfined. 

I haven’t done much since vacation started. I’ve mostly been watching Netflix or writing or eating things I shouldn’t or being drunk. This is the transitional phase from stress and chaos to quiet and free. Like a pendulum, I swing from one extreme to the other, completely confined and scheduled and controlled to freedom. But leisure isn’t enough. I want physically out of this body. The grey matter in my skull is too restricting. So I do nothing. I stop doing anything as though physicality is not required. It’s the only way I can let go of the world for longer than 60 seconds with the exception of staying drunk all the time. But I’m not interested in self-destruction. 

The thing about pendulums is that the ball swings up the same distance each way only in theory. In reality, the height decreases a little with each swing. So I can never be as free as I was confined.

I worked in the corporate world for a while. That sucked too. In a building, in a cubical, behind a desk, stuck to a chair. Every day. Those computers ruined my eyes, and the classroom has ruined my ears. Confinement in general has ruined my ability to feel anything real.

That’s not true. But tonight it is.

I’m numb. Though I suppose I feel something because I have the desire to. 

Sleep would be good. This would be good…


Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

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