I haven't been alone for this many consecutive hours in quite some time. Not that I mind it, it's rather refreshing. Refreshing and terrifying at the same time. What is it that makes some of us so afraid of being alone? I opened up the bedroom window and sat on the sill. I lit my cigarette with solid and sure hands, inhaled, closed my eyes and listened to the city below. I am only on the fifth floor but I look down at the streets below, red and yellow, blue and green lights; cars driving too fast for small city streets. Everyone is in a rush here, they honk their horns, speed up at crossing pedestrians. I begin to lean back and realize the window is open behind me.
Most people are afraid of heights. Most people get dizzy from looking down at the ground beneath them from very high up in the sky. Looking down never makes me feel that way, it's actually the exact opposite. Looking up is what gives me a slight fright, a shiver that shoots through my blood stream. Looking up makes me feel infinite and insignificant and elated. Looking down reminds me that I am destructible, mortal, breakable. I see the street below and know that with one thoughtless foot placement, one wrong move and I will fall down the fire escape and it will all be done forever. Of course it will all continue on without me, and of course, that is my greatest fear.
I sat there a while thinking, so long, that my cigarette went out. I hid in in the window for a day when we have none. I know that day will come, these are the hardest times. I stared off into the distance for a while and thought that that was the farthest thing I saw in a long time. The avenue looks like an endless tunnel in the dark, it swallows the taxi cabs and the buses, the bikers. Finally all of the noise turned into silence and after staring up at the New Yorker Hotel and the distant star to the right of the top window I did begin to feel ever so dizzy. A tingling sensation came over me and I felt ecstasy. I dipped my head below the window, swung my legs over the sill; first the right then the left, and twisted my body through the opening in the wall. I leaned towards the bed and landed in a semi fetal position. I could feel my body sinking through the lavender sheets as I watched the woodwork sit still. I was sinking deeper and deeper and finally, I closed my eyes and opened them very quickly, got off the bed, and walked into the kitchen.
The sink was filled with dishes, as it always is, and I was not in the mood to clean them. Instead I took a shower and thought about the self that I miss sixty or seventy miles away. I wished to be claustrophobic behind that maroon curtain, soap on his hands on my back. It had only been twelve hours and I was already longing to lay next to him, see the spots on his back and show him where each one was with a tiny poke, touch his face and see him smile at me. There could be crumbs on the sheets and right now, I wouldn't care. I would take off my pants and let them bother my legs, wrap my feet around his calves, rub my hands against his fuzzy belly. Our time was cut too short and now I am a puppy, salivating, wanting more of whatever delicious treat was dangled in my face and pulled away instantly. Of course it was enough, any tiny sliver of it is enough, I am just selfish and loving and always hungry for more.
Most people are afraid of heights. Most people get dizzy from looking down at the ground beneath them from very high up in the sky. Looking down never makes me feel that way, it's actually the exact opposite. Looking up is what gives me a slight fright, a shiver that shoots through my blood stream. Looking up makes me feel infinite and insignificant and elated. Looking down reminds me that I am destructible, mortal, breakable. I see the street below and know that with one thoughtless foot placement, one wrong move and I will fall down the fire escape and it will all be done forever. Of course it will all continue on without me, and of course, that is my greatest fear.
I sat there a while thinking, so long, that my cigarette went out. I hid in in the window for a day when we have none. I know that day will come, these are the hardest times. I stared off into the distance for a while and thought that that was the farthest thing I saw in a long time. The avenue looks like an endless tunnel in the dark, it swallows the taxi cabs and the buses, the bikers. Finally all of the noise turned into silence and after staring up at the New Yorker Hotel and the distant star to the right of the top window I did begin to feel ever so dizzy. A tingling sensation came over me and I felt ecstasy. I dipped my head below the window, swung my legs over the sill; first the right then the left, and twisted my body through the opening in the wall. I leaned towards the bed and landed in a semi fetal position. I could feel my body sinking through the lavender sheets as I watched the woodwork sit still. I was sinking deeper and deeper and finally, I closed my eyes and opened them very quickly, got off the bed, and walked into the kitchen.
The sink was filled with dishes, as it always is, and I was not in the mood to clean them. Instead I took a shower and thought about the self that I miss sixty or seventy miles away. I wished to be claustrophobic behind that maroon curtain, soap on his hands on my back. It had only been twelve hours and I was already longing to lay next to him, see the spots on his back and show him where each one was with a tiny poke, touch his face and see him smile at me. There could be crumbs on the sheets and right now, I wouldn't care. I would take off my pants and let them bother my legs, wrap my feet around his calves, rub my hands against his fuzzy belly. Our time was cut too short and now I am a puppy, salivating, wanting more of whatever delicious treat was dangled in my face and pulled away instantly. Of course it was enough, any tiny sliver of it is enough, I am just selfish and loving and always hungry for more.
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