August 18th 2021

Today for a short while I led face down on my living room rug. It was surprisingly comfortable, and oddly relaxing. Though when I stood up, I was completely covered in fluff. It had stuck to me like a sticky thing.

I don’t know why my reaction to stress is to lie on the floor, but it’s kinda always been a thing. I guess there’s a vulnerability to it. Or an ignorance. Lying on the floor is a way to ignore the world that’s happening in three dimensions, and restrict it to only two. Thats like an entire third less life to deal with.

Suddenly you don’t have to worry about what’s happening on the y axis, because you only exist on the x and z. And very little stuff of note happens strictly on the x and z axis.

I was going to say that only simple stuff like sleep and hoovering happens only on the x and z axis, but even a hoover has a height. This metaphor has lost its depth, but you know what I mean.

I guess there’s just less to worry about when you’re on the floor because there’s less going on.

That is until you stand up and realise that your problems still exist, except now you’re covered in fluff and looking like someone has reverse lint-rolled you.

Until tomorrow, I’m going to lie down again.


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