to get used to life

So here I am, again, flattened under volume.

I was just outside in the balcony, dragging in meager amounts of artificial air born out of mini deaths of tobacco. Tobacco, which has accompanied loneliness or social digressions, in solitude allows me to churn ephemeral euphorias.  I stood there thinking to myself, no one is aware of this breathing right now. These hot charcoal breaths of air culminating and generating heat in my body and erasing any healthy cells from memorizing life. Life, that ceases to crawl each second I am aware that I need to run or maybe fly soon. Because I do not belong here. And to know not where you belong is a beautiful gift sometimes.

You could temporarily nest just about any fucking where; how exhilarating!

I am constantly living some place else, other than now.

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