I know it's me imbuing it with life as I can see and feel the spirit of each strand moving in sync with my pulse. I'm the heart to this vast red coral reef. The weight of that responsibility slaloms through my organs and lands with a thump in my stomach.
Dare I detach myself? What is the sentence for magical genocide?
Smoke escapes the nostrils and provides a brief distraction from the more pressing issue of how I can get out of this pickle.
Man, I wish I'd never come down here.
I push my right palm into the gently wriggling fronds. It's deeper than it looks. And infinitely soft. Woah. Dry liquid is what it is. Gnarly.
It seems I'm significantly lighter than I ever thought, as I'm, somehow, still on the surface. But if I sink I don't think I'll have the energy, or maybe even inclination, to kick to the surface.
Right, thinking-hat on. I spread myself out face down, distributing my weight like a leaf. I'm safe. Simple physics. Babytown frolics.
Ooh, hello! I can feel the fronds in their thousands caressing my skin and effortlessly taking the weight of my entire body, every pore and line on my face filled. No part of me has any more pressure upon it than another and it's magnificent.
Man alive this is comfortable. Disarmingly comfortable. I should've done this an age ago.
The reef begins to roll and swell and I dissolve into it, deaf to the world. Why did I ever want to leave and shirk the honour of keeping this sentient, organic, gathering of tiny, yet enormous souls alive? I don't know.
At that point I realised most of what I know isn't worth knowing.
And that is how I spent an hour lying on the carpet, off my face on acid.
- Deadward
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