Illness
I had the day off work today. I was feeling ill. Again. Strangely, I seem to be spending most of my life these days in a kind of state of low-grade illness which occasionally peaks for a day or so, then recedes to normal background levels...
It was fun, though - lying in bed, looking at a crack in the wall, watching it vibrate from side to side like a chaotic guitar string, leaving little grey ghost-trails. Eventually, my eyes lost focus and the line opened into a crack, a hole, a void into which I fell, spinning into infinity, warm and lost.
Later on, I left the house to get some drugs, needing my chemical fix so I could slip into a legally-permissable coma, sedated and calm. Walking down the cold streets, I passed friends, enemies, strangers - an ex-girlfriend, a course-mate from Uni, an imaginary friend from my childhood. They walked past me, not looking at me, eyes fixed ahead as the snowflakes passed through them. Other people were there - the real people, breath steaming, going about their lives. But my ghosts somehow seemed more real, outlined by a wierd blue backlight. Most of them seemed to be chewing. I wondered what they were eating.
Sadly, sustenance and chemicals brought an end to my reverie, and I felt an urgent need to get out of the house, so I wandered off to a rock club, and boogied the night away, only to run into and argue with the Evil Harridan. Joy.
