Really fascinating experience. I feel bad for probably not picking up on what the game's putting down, but my reading of it is:
I felt pity for the jelly-thing we play as, as it seems like something's happened that's preventing them from interfacing with their home the way they once had; they can no longer paint, they can no longer sit on the roof, they can no longer generate footsteps... only when they've gone up high, to a place barren of boirds and littered with junk, can they do the only thing they're seemingly able to do, which is document their thoughts.
My pity might be unnecessary, though, as the jelly-thing seems in pretty high spirits about its situation. They retain hope that one day they'll be able to do what they had once done in the past again (like paint), and they still are able to appreciate both the beautiful and the not-so-beautiful around them. It feels like a really touching experience about what it's like to be so physically divorced from what you once called home, but against all odds still holding onto the idea of it.