So I’m in the packet and I’m ready to go, but nothing happens. For ages. I don’t move. The world around me doesn’t move, and it’s peaceful. But I don’t want peace. I want anything but.
I’m made for action, movement, and I’m bored. I can almost feel myself drying up, freezing, and I’m beginning to think, all right, maybe I’m not supposed to go anywhere. Maybe this is it, this is the point. I can’t even remember what I’m here for and what I’m supposed to do.
Maybe I’m supposed to be here and dry up and crack. Maybe I’m supposed to slowly disintegrate when, suddenly, I’m moving.
I feel myself going up and turning on my side, and then just as quickly there’s light and I remember what I’m for. I remember my life before the darkness and stillness and peace, and I’m ready for what’s next, for the squeeze of my teat end and the gentle pressure on my ring.
I’m out of the packet, and I can feel myself stretching out and rolling, and I’m happy because this is it, this is what I’ve been waiting for all this time. I’m where I belong, and I can feel myself sway and bounce and then something sharp around my stretched and ready skin, a great darkness and pressure around the base of my teat-end, and I’m moving.
I’m going back and forth getting all the action I ever wanted and preparing myself for what’s coming next, readying myself to be the barrier, the protector, the great defender. I’m moving quicker and quicker and I can feel my skin ruffle and stretch with every movement and I know it’s going to end soon and I can prove my worth.
I begin to stretch more and more when, suddenly, my liquid sides start to dry and flake. I begin to crinkle and stop moving. I stop and stretch. I’ve been still too long, and now I’m moving so much I can’t keep it together. I can’t lubricate. I feel it coming, and I can’t contain it.
I should’ve been left alone. I’m too old, and I’m ready to disintegrate, and suddenly my teat end is exploding and I’m wrenched out of the darkness and flying, flying and flying and eventually falling, into you, whatever you are, my life over, my skin in tatters, my teat destroyed, my world peaceful again, and dark.
I’m not moving. I’m still, and I’m already forgetting what it is I’m for and what it is I’m meant to do.
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