(Eyeball) Floaters Thursday, May 29, 2025

I sit on my porch.

The rain is falling. Slowly, at least.

It’s calm, it’s comforting,

It’s a rare, cold coziness.

I look up at my rain clouds above.

They don’t seem too upset but they still cry.

I wipe my eyes and immediately my floaters come to comfort me.

They don’t do much; it’s what they like to do.

My floaters, my friends, live on my eyes and look around with me.

They experience the world with me.

I wonder if they see what I see. I hope not.

Some of them look like beads on a string

rattling around on a wrist too small.

Sometimes a wrist too big.

Sometimes it’s just right.

I wonder what they think of my eyes.

I hope they think it’s just right.

Even if it’s not, I don’t want them to leave.

They’ve been with me since I was little.

I still feel little sometimes.

I like feeling like a kid.

This sense of wonder and love for the world around me,

it’s beautiful; it stops me from thinking.

Staring at my floaters, I feel serenity, not numbness.

I think too much; or feel, I guess.

I wonder what my friends feel.

I wonder what they feel when I dart my eyes left and right, up and down.

How do they feel being dragged?

They chose to be here with me, I suppose.

But do they deserve it?

Our beads still seem fastened to each other; the string isn’t broken.

Maybe it’s fine.

I think I’m feeling too much.

I feel I’m thinking too much.

I’m gonna look up at my floaters more often.