Even he did not understand why he drank the fluid, knowing full well in the moments he saw it that it would surely have disastrous effects. It was an urging, a decision not made by his consciousness. A desire that was so fleeting he had been unable to control it before it was enacted. Florian had little time to consider what he had done, but in the time he had, he did not feel regret. He was aware, but there was no thoughts he could think, as overloaded with information, as intense everything felt. Somehow, he did not collapse on the ground, but he stood, screaming and laughing and crying and breaking apart at once.
Florian had never gone swimming. He had submerged himself in the bathtub. He had never jumped into a lake, or a river, or a pond, or a pool. But, if he had, he imagined this is what it would have felt like. Except, in some ways, it felt like he was the ocean, the sea, the pond and the pool, filling every crevice until he was not. It reminded him, particularly, of the sinking, drowning feeling he had felt when he had been operated on. This time, however, he was not scared.
In a sea of darkness, Florian was drawn to the point of light. He knew he was formless, but he did not care for such a thing, and he dragged his thoughts towards the light, no matter where the current led. He was not going to be controlled by the waves while he was still conscious, and even has he filled the spaces of everywhere and then filled the spaces of nowhere at once, he was rather determined to bring himself closer. He had survived so much before, and he would survive so much still. The very idea that he might let himself be killed was audacious. It did not fit into his worldview, to allow himself death.
So closer, and closer to the light he pushed himself on. The drifting sea could not control him. Only he could control him.
—
Florian had never gone swimming. He had submerged himself in the bathtub. He had never jumped into a lake, or a river, or a pond, or a pool. But, if he had, he imagined this is what it would have felt like. Except, in some ways, it felt like he was the ocean, the sea, the pond and the pool, filling every crevice until he was not. It reminded him, particularly, of the sinking, drowning feeling he had felt when he had been operated on. This time, however, he was not scared.
In a sea of darkness, Florian was drawn to the point of light. He knew he was formless, but he did not care for such a thing, and he dragged his thoughts towards the light, no matter where the current led. He was not going to be controlled by the waves while he was still conscious, and even has he filled the spaces of everywhere and then filled the spaces of nowhere at once, he was rather determined to bring himself closer. He had survived so much before, and he would survive so much still. The very idea that he might let himself be killed was audacious. It did not fit into his worldview, to allow himself death.
So closer, and closer to the light he pushed himself on. The drifting sea could not control him. Only he could control him.