hanging on by thin thread, a rotten thin thread. I think it’s a disease. I think i’m having a hanging-on-by-rotten-thin-thread disease.
maybe actually it’s not that thin, or not even rotten. maybe it’s not even a thread. maybe its a thick steel cable, with good insulator, made in germany. maybe from BASF. But the tingles, they are telling me, it IS a thin thread. too thin to hold anything weigh more than a casual chat with a stranger in a bar, too rotten to put up with more than a few hours of that chat. definitely not suitable for a bungee jumping.
i dont think there is any cure to this. and that, my dear-almostnonexistent readers, creeps the hell outta me. part of me wants to cut the thread off, just let myself free. gonna be a tough fall when i hit the bottom of the pit but it’s freedom after that. with some fractures here and there. oh man maybe i wont even survive the impact. but it’s better than suffocate yourself hanging in the middle of nowhere with this dreaded thin thread around your body, right?
Or i could wait until the thread is broken by itself, and in the meantime, i just enjoy the scenery from up there? but tell me how would you enjoy floating by a thread, knowing the thread could break at anytime?leaving you free falling, with the same fractures and injury, plus a heart attack.
How i hope it is in fact a steel cable, or rafia, at least. it hurts but it’s an asshole to be broken barehanded.
or if i have to fall, please dear God, make it a quick one.
or you know what, God, just give me some chill pills. Thank you.