It has been a summer of mutant ladybirds – friends who have transformed; a summer of hundreds of snails attempting to cross the pathway – friends needing you to guide. And sometimes instead of guiding, you grab them and just take them from A to B, just to have it done with. Of course it’s wrong, because they still have no clue where they are at. Hardly anyone does.  You draw all possible sorts of maps, leave crumbs before you enter the labyrinth yourself and they wouldn’t do a thing. I don’t want to do this anymore.

I hate feet, but there are days where I would sit there, put my feet on my desk and stare at my toes for a while. I wouldn’t talk to them like Uma Thurman, I would just observe them and imagine they are people, like school kids standing outside in the schoolyard. The only interesting things about my feet are my big toes, as both are non-conformists, and this ultimately makes me feel proud. There is a big gap between each of my big toe and the little toes, as if the little toes are a group of soldiers about to shoot that outsider of a big toe. Once I was told that the big gap means you’re a loner, an outsider that not only soldiers would shoot at. And if your toes are all happily close to each other (including the big toe), you are a clingy bastard. This is the only think I notice when looking at other people’s feet. Earlobes are interesting, too, you know.

Lately I’ve noticed how much of my life energy work seems to rob. Every time I leave work, I feel how it has sucked me dry, leaving me a bull’s head ache and the need of throwing up, as if I hadn’t breathed for an entire day. Then I start to feel dizzy at the cinema, dizzy whilst reading on a vehicle and dizzy in a badly aired room. Imagine someone has put you on a boat, the water isn’t still and never will be and you find it hard to stand on both feet, to keep your eyes open, especially for a whole day, but you still need to focus on everything around you. The only thing you look forward to is the day where you can jog, do your sit-ups and pushups. On days like these I’m fine – very fine. And currently days like these occur only once a week.

This state of vertigo… I am only waiting to throw up on your feet, have a good laugh at you whilst you stare at me like I’m crazy. I am not, I’m just sad that I cannot be an astronaut.

I am not scared of heights; it’s motion sickness. My eyes have changed; they seem weaker than ten years ago. Lately whatever my eyes transport to my brain makes me feel nauseated. I do sports. I sleep with window open. I read without any problem. So is it my circulation, my heart of simply exhaustion?

Vertigo, no I’m not scared of heights, at least I think so. I want to climb mountains and stand on the roof top. It’s just motion sickness. Too many pictures, too many movements – or are my eyes low-functioning?

Tired and hating everything about you. I don’t know why I still present gratitude despite of everything I blame you for and accuse you of, as if I really care what you think. Maybe there are too many good people around and I always give you what you deserve, no matter how difficult or arduous it might be.

Fuck you good will.

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