Thoughts continuously rise and pop, rise and pop. Bubbles in efforvescent water. Nothing comes of one, two, three of them. Only together, they create a mass effect on the tongue. Not a taste, but a sensation. A tingling on lips, fizzing against teeth.
You swallow and the feeling slides singing down your throat. In your stomach, the bubbles turn to gas, filling your belly up. Later all that excess air has to be burped back up. A second round, less pleasant than the first.
But at the vending machine, you still choose the fizzy drink over still. You ask yourself why each time. Only to have what is comfortable and safe? Because without those brief sensations, your days lack something? Because you, by now, are used to such low grade suffering? Because you can’t bring yourself to touch that deep anywhere else?
Funny how we learn to love the wrinkles around our eyes that years of frowning made permanent in us. Funny how difficult a new pattern is to set. Funny how we just go round and round.
Well, I’m laughing at any rate.