Saturated


I woke up from that sleep that comes right before the real sleep and found myself with an unexplainable thirst and an acute awareness of how dry my hands were. I spent eight hours earlier tonight with my hands under running water, the water achieving more in sixty seconds than I ever will. My skin is itching dry now, trying to remind me that it is still there, it is still a part of me, it to deserves to be taken care of. I drag myself away from my pillow and get a cup of water, I drink it and refill it, I drink it and refill it, I drink it and refill it. I have to water the roots, my roots, inside is thirsty and outside is wilting.
Water is unique to our planet.
I don't feel comfortable not understanding why skin dries out after washing dishes a lot, but gets soggy and expands when you're in the bath. Or why the inside of a pot lid is different than the outside, it looks like a completely different material, but it isn't. It just looks different. Is there a purpose? Is it still a purpose if nobody knows, if nobody appreciates it?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Materialistically Satisfied, never satiated.

Lover's Lane

Our generation holds themselves higher than our parents' held the bible.