The sound of a car whizzing past you at 60 miles an hour is a good reminder you're alive. The gravel of the sidewalk under my hands, the scratch of the brick against my back all continue to tie me down. Without them, my senses might forget that I'm still here. I might just float away, out of my body, past the smog and the skyscrapers until I can look down at all my problems like ants and laugh. For a moment that almost sounds nice, but without those reminders I won't ever be able to come back. I'd be stuck there, above the clouds, watching everyone else live on while I hover, my body abandoned and forgotten.
The sun continues to beat down o