As the night begins, I descend.
My comfortable place is below that of a human, but it’s comfortable.
As I enter, the walls start to dance. I feel light, and smile at the dancing walls.
I tire myself dancing, and then I start to regain my mind.
Eventually, I start to remember. Not the terrible memories anymore, but the one complex inhumane feeling they evoke.
I remember that I’m comfortable, but I am below the place of a human.
How long has it been? I can’t tell, but there are so many empty bottles.
Are there more bottles than ugly memories? I can’t tell, but there are enough memories to want to be absent-minded, and enough bottles to be absent-minded tonight.