some days i was stuck to my ceiling. and everything id rather not have follow, always seem to anyways.
sitting and building up here taking all the room and making me feel more stuck. bored. and sometimes
like an inanimate object. i saw old crumpled notes to friends and withered books swim past
me conversing about their content. i was still stuck. i saw old clothes of mine jump out the
window together, running away, claiming they loved each other. i was still stuck.
i watched everyone below me go about their lives doing things they usually did and went their way.
i tried calling out to them a few times. but my voice decided to swim away with the passing notes and books.
i was still stuck. i came to terms with it. still stuck.
tried making a life of it. still stuck. then one day i fell...and was stuck to the floor. it was alright.
everything just felt upside down tho.