“Hardwood floors make the room freeze”

by Natalie Robin

I don’t remember if I’ve ever mused about how I feel about musing at night; but I don’t do it and I don’t like to do it since I rarely find the coherency to explicate my emotions at night, but the sizable weight that I feel this evening calls out for recognition.

My body has been buzzing the past twenty-four hours with an anticipation–for something to go all right or to go all wrong. I knew I couldn’t be inside my room tonight where the wild things are, so I went out and had a dinner of soup by myself before hopping on the train to meet a friend, who I contacted upon arriving (early) at the appropriate station and concocted a gentle excuse rescinding my initial gesture of potential presence. I don’t necessarily know why I did it, but it felt like the right thing to do, so I did it.

I walked around for a little while feeling like nothing but an essence. I could hardly feel my legs–or any other limb for that matter; not from the cold but from my chimeric existence in the moment and now extending to present. I feel as though I have no grounding; floating above the concrete sea as a little ball of hot ember that glows with feeling. These feelings, what I misinterpreted all night as feeling not human, I realized in an inverse flash that perhaps this is the most human I’ve ever felt.

 

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