Escape ^^^^^^ Another typhoon blew through, and no one noticed. The world is drunk on trying not to care---or trying not to die. But in the meantime the mildew runs wild. I sat typing, or trying to. I gave in and decided to quit. But colon-q broke everything. The wall of text remained, while the unblinking cursor mocked my feeble attempt to escape. Nothing should freeze in this heat, not while it's this humid in here. Out of lame desperation, I punched Esc, just to see. And I saw everything. I saw myself, suddenly, as if through a toilet paper roll... blowing bouyantly into a melodica in the subway. Dumb and innocent, but confident. Even while the other passengers misunderstood. I had that power then. It was too much to have it again, so I struck Esc to avoid answering to that wiser version of myself. Then we were on the beach again. It was sundown, and the waves were gentle enough that you didn't have to care, but strong enough to move your bones. The sand moved like a fluid, sparkling and falling over itself like brown sugar. Everything was sherbert. We were so fat with pleasure then, in spite of the roaches even. Pop was dying, and we didn't even know it yet. We were just floating, already hoping it could be this way again soon. We had no idea the world would turn in upon itself, that its implosion would in time make invalids of us all. With every successive stroke of Esc, the mildew only grew. Exposing more wounds and ways I've already decayed. My past returned to mock me, matter-of-factly reminding me that the only way to escape is to decompose. But here I am trying to write something, build something, be something. The world just breaks your nose, and nobody knows it---we're all so deep in our holes. The only way out of this is risking whatever holds you together. But even dirt---dirt is alive. Yet here we are, trying so damn hard to survive. How can the living care so little for life? CC-BY-SA-NC 4.0 mieum@rawtext.club