Reaching for normal

I woke up wanting to smoke cigarettes, so I chewed on a cloud instead. For lunch I ate a rainbow and vomited up some sunshine.

I laid on the floor of my apartment yesterday afternoon for the briefest of moments, and daydreamed about making love with a leprechaun.

At work I use little rubber fingertips; they slide over the ends of your fingers and make you all grip-y so you can page through papers fast. They're like non-skid flooring, only for your fingers. I stick them in my pockets and forget them there.

When I find them, I line them up on my dresser and pretend they are extra fingers that can reach out and grab everything I want but don't have.

I was reaching for normal, but I think I missed the mark.