Some days you wake up fully inside yourself. Every beat, every breath, felt. The simplest of tasks seem heavy. Breathe in, breathe out. One foot forward, now the next. Move your mouth, up and down – swallow. Every movement and motion a mark on the map – a painful reminder of your current state. You know where you are, just not how you got there.
It’s hard to recall what ones anticipatory image of something was, once on the other side. I’m no longer sure exactly what it was I was hoping for, but I do know that it was something wholly unfamiliar – beautiful, even. Like a new color, not a mixture. No trace of blue or yellow or red. What would that look like? How would it feel? I have some basic understanding of light – how it can only be broken down and refracted into its seven constituent hues. And even though I know that the physical world makes the existence of such a thing essentially impossible, I’d still like to see it – to feel it – if only for a moment.
