That’s right. I thought exactly what you read.
This word is very liberating and manages to pass such a perfect image of now that my body quivers with excitement. But that’s all it does at the moment. Besides breathing, of course.
For two days I’ve been the same way, lying in bed like a bag of dirty clothes, looking at a fixed point on the white ceiling of my room, because… because…
Well, I don’t know why, I just can’t feel or be anything else than that. Anything else than this moment. Anything else than the fact that I look like a bag of dirty clothes that can’t take my eyes off that spot on the ceiling.
I’ve thought a lot of things for the last 48 hours. I always think too much. Sometimes this is a problem and maybe I’m here, at this moment and in this situation, precisely because I think too much. But I don’t regret any of this. I don’t regret thinking.
In fact, I hunted and hunted in my head tens of millions of thoughts that could help me get out of this mess, but I found none. None, can you believe it? I thought about doing several things just to see if I would get away from this now. I thought about reaching out and picking up my cell phone from the desk and reading the dozens of messages from my friends. I thought about answering those messages. I thought about continuing my virtual crush on Facebook with a girl from my college. I thought of taking a selfie, tossed in bed like a sack of potatoes and posting it on Instagram. I thought about getting up and playing video games. I thought about turning up my notebook and read manga online. I thought about masturbating. I thought about watching Netflix. I thought about sleeping. I thought about eating. I thought.
And I thought… and I thought…
But that was all.
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