the month of me: icarus 54, scene 3

Sitting down. Here I SIT. No. I don’t. Here I FLOAT. In my upless downless hole. There. I can see my ceiling… slash floor… slash wall slash wall wall wall… They’re all WALLS. They give me all this crap to “aid my enviromental acclimation”. Strap it on and — Wow! Pretend gravity! “Well… let’s stand here so we can pretend that THIS is the floor today, and that THAT’S the ceiling, and let’s say over there’s WEST”, just so I don’t spend my entire day vomiting from the vertigo. Falling. I just wish I could feel like I’m falling, like I COULD fall. I haven’t felt PULLED in soooo long. To THINK I looked forward to this. Weightlessness. I always thought it’d feel like flying does. How it feels in my dreams. Then again, I imagine that when you fly, you would always feel the pull, the DOWN. And it’s the escape from that, when you can outrun the Earth, that feels so good… I don’t feel anything here.

Sometimes, I have to let go. Strap down every thing loose, close everything up, crouch down low against a wall, turn the suit off, push and GO! FSSSHHH! into another wall and FSSSHHH! and wall and FSSSHHH! and wall and FSSSHHH! and GO!! and oohhh MAN! That’s the best illusion of gravity available. IM-PACT! Smash yourself across the room into that far wall close your eyes and for a moment, for just a split second, it feels like hitting ground, Mother Earth pulling you to her come home my child into my arms kiss me kiss me kiss me… oooooo the smallest of breezes against your face, you wanna scream it feels so GOOD and you GO! AAOOOO!!!

Usually, after a couple of minutes of this, I push off too hard, or I hit something sharp. Something. I cut myself, smash my head. It stops me. And I float there, breathing hard, and the memory of pressure, of wind, stays on my skin for a couple of absolutely perfect seconds. I breathe hard and I watch the sweat bead on my arm.

Watches sweat bead, shakes arm slightly, watches beads float in the air.

But it doesn’t last forever. Couple of seconds.

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