I turn my head to the side, still lying on the bed. I catch a glimpse of the mirror and I see the hazy surface. The misty droplets of water condensing on the silver. It was incredibly hot since the past few days, I do remember the crazy heat driving me to the river. There's nothing like the river for a cold treat. Maybe it had rained last night, the world has been such a blur I wouldn't even know. Maybe there had been a storm, a hurricane, even if the universe had come to a still, I wouldn't have known.
I spy my face in between the glass, an expression caught in the mirror like a wet photograph. There's smudged mascara, my eyes look hideous. Except they don't. They have always looked hideous but not today. Today they looked like someone who had won a losing battle. Like crushed coal on hot tar. Still gleaming, a wondrous fiery black unlike any other. Hair, tangled into curls, looking like dark silken ribbons, except they were not as beautiful. They were untidy, unkempt, the way you look when you wake up after a long night, and you have no idea how or why you can't remember anything at all.
You are so unbelievably love drunk. In love with everything and everyone. In love with life and in love with love. In love with the great big yellow sun and in love with the wide blue ocean. How can you not love all these creations of God? He who sat and made all these little things, like a baby would make his clay toys. So imperfect, but you would love them anyways. So innocently exotic are his creations. Even the plainest of human beings are worth admiring and even the most evil of characters are worth applauding.
I sit up on my bed, and I feel the world moving in a kind of fast motion beneath me. It's like the floor
is slipping away. I'm not even drunk. The alcohol never even reached my lips, I had been asleep since I don't know when. It wasn't the weather that lulled me to sleep, it wasn't even the fragrance of those tropical leaves on my desk, flying in with the wind and floating about my room. Maybe it was that voice in the phone, a deep, sweetening voice. Or maybe , just maybe I don't know what happened last night. Maybe I slept off, without meaning to and Peter Pan flew in and took me to Neverland.
How would I know? If fairy dust could be seen, then my hands and feet would be sparkling. But Peter doesn't take women who are old. He takes young girls and I am no longer Wendy. I was once upon a time, a very dedicated little Wendy. But I grew up, I left those castles behind in my nursery and I rose like a phoenix and flew every new day and remembered everything when I woke up. Except today, today I could not remember a thing.
I thought of what I wanted. I wanted happiness in every form. And I had a sublime happiness in everything. Except I knew I was impulsive enough to be a brat at times. An annoying one that too. I thought about my impulsiveness quite often. And I scolded myself often.
The mirror looked like it would crack, the mist had gripped it very tightly. I walked up to the glass and blew away the fogginess. My face was unimaginably blank for a person who had just had an adventure. So many wonderful things happened with me all the time. I studied my lips for a little longer than always, they were artificially red. A kind of bright scarlet which I did not like.
My feet ached, around the ankle where the heels had piercingly dealt a painful pressure. Don't move, I thought. But standing still was not an option. I glided to the desk, as if in a dream and my phone, lay sprawled, with a dead screen. So disconnected from everything. Did I lose my memory? Did some one hit me on my head with something very heavy? I would never know. I didn't know if someone was there with me last night. I just knew that I was sleeping.
The sweet deadening sleep, which coursed through my veins like the strawberry drink which laced my lips. The day was cloudy, the mist was floating in and despite all the light headed thoughts that bubbled in my brain, I felt detached from reality.
And for the first time I looked out of the window. A world of clouds and filtering sunshine and reminiscent greenery. It struck me like a dart through the mist. Quite caught by surprise. The memory loss, the rain, the hangover which did not quite fit.
The view outside the window was wonderfully pleasant. If I were not already dead, I would have been delighted. Heaven would have been a great story to tell my friends. Magnificent, simple, glorious heaven.
Oh, yes.
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