"I am getting so far out one day I won't come back at all."

once, i said

"i'm always underestimating my body's ability to use emotions
to make petty things seem ever so important.
it does it practically all the time. and i'm a hypocrite because i hate petty things and conversations"

i still feel that way
but in a sense that doesn't make sense
because everything may or may not be petty.
my problem is, i don't even want to run the risk of being petty
which in itself could be petty

so in effect, i don't want to be human, or alive
which is stupid, and ridiculous,
and i an expectation I've given myself for reasons i don't understand.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

When i walked outside, it wasn't raining. The air was dry, the wind blew gently through the desperate reaching limbs of trees, and the ground was covered in berries that'd fallen from the same exact arms that now waved gracefully at the clouds above.

It wasn't raining when i walked outside;

But as i stepped down off of the curb, and began to move across the cracking, pothole ladden street, i noticed that silently, falling around my shoes and on to the street below me, there were appearing tiny droplets of a liquid that glimmered mysteriously in the overcast light provided by the sun.

Out of habit, I turned my head up towards the sky, and waited to feel the beads of water droplets fall in to my open eyes. But when the liquid continued to drop around me, and no rain splashed against the membrane of my corneas, i looked hurriedly to my hands in confusion.

Where was it coming from? Was something leaking in my bag?
Usually the source of such anomalies can be found within moments, and the confusion I was experiencing at the hands of this mysterious liquid was mounting.

I couldn't think of an explanation for it's presence until I finally stopped to take a good look at my fingers.

At first, I figured I must have been hallucinating. After all, everything I was witnessing went against the laws of nature themselves. Liquefied flesh? Droplets of skin, milky with the color of my body, falling away from me, and hitting the ground below? It couldn't be. There had to be some sort of logical explanation.
Maybe I'd managed to contaminate my hands with some acidic chemical.
Maybe I was dreaming, and would wake up to find my fingers whole, and solid, just as they had been when I had lain down to fall asleep.

But I wasn't waking up. And as the moments continued to pass, more and more of me began splattering away on to the asphalt below as I gazed down at the puddles in horror and disbelief. I couldn't tell if it was my imagination, as the droplets began becoming more steady, turning in to a stream of liquid pouring out much faster than it initially had, nor did I know whether or not to believe it when the droplets began falling from further and further up my arms,
and from my face,
and from my legs.

My heart was beating so heavily i couldn't even hear myself muttering in denial.
Panic was taking hold, and my mind began racing, as I began running.
Back across the street, I sprinted on wobbly legs that splattered the ground with the fluid as I went.
I was beginning to loose feeling in my body, and it was taking everything i had in me, just to continue running.
My hands bare, and my bones peeking out, dripping the same exact liquid that had been falling from my flesh
and i was slipping around in my shoes, on top of my slimy, disintegrating feet.
I was tingling all over, and my body continued to drip away like wax from a candle. I don't know if I was crying, or if my eye balls were simply melting out of my head because my whole entire body was sopping now, as i crumbled to the floor of my house, with the painful awareness that i was coming more and more apart; getting further and further away from myself; becoming more and more impossible to put back together.

I could smell the flesh, and I gagged. Heaving, i sent warm acid up my esophagus, and stared out at the shapes of organs turned decayed and shapeless in the puddles in which my face was now dripping. I could feel myself growing closer to the floor. Feel as I was spread thinner and thinner amongst the cracks of tiling, intermingling with the vomited organs and acid. My legs were gone. My arms were gone. My head was gone. And My torso was gone. I tried to scream, but I couldn't do anything except feel the cold floor all over my being. My form was gone. I had no figure and I was I was no figure.
No shape.
No thing,
but just puddles.
A sick pool of degenerated waste, bubbling in erosion and seeping in to the corners with the drywall,
never letting go of the figure that was me.