The day I came back from nothingness it was like I brought back information. There is a clawing feedback loop that’s vailing my perception. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but it is undoubtedly there; a pulling; something giving solids less solidity; giving importance less matter as if I can see the dimensions layered. I can feel them. It’s as if life has been shown to me in a theater and today is the intermission.

I still feel solid. I still feel important. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more important. It’s like I’m carrying the density of the universe as if its weight is my own. Everything else is gaseous; ghostly; almost unreal, but I see it; the world around me.

People still talk. They still sit down at diner tables and chit chat about their all-important lives, so full of drama and expounding on how they’re going to do this, do that, and “this is what I said” and “can you believe she said that.” I can still hear them, but they seem fake and distant; slightly less real, as if I could walk inside them, or brush my hand through them as though they were a puff of exhaled cigarette smoke. They’ve always been as rancid.