bi polar

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 03, 2017

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Submitted: January 03, 2017

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She touched the cold window with her fingertips, relentlessly watching a paper bag floating in the wind, meaningless became a curiosity to her, like the leaves dancing the tango, floating across landscapes of a timeless moment…….she stared at the cloud formations, and just for that moment she allowed herself a certain kind of silence in her head.  Like a cease fire in war time,

 like a conspiracy a brotherhood in this winter storm… the trees, alone like the bark towers ………. ……….she closed her eyes and dreamt of words to create what that moment felt like. 

A soft spoken voice interrupted her……..”Sky have you taken your tablets today”  “I have, just not fit for human consumption” Tell me Quin, do you think what we experience is real, are we real….

Quin run her fingers through her long black hair, “I think it is all an illusion”  “And that is your answer Quin”

She stepped back allowing herself touch the single thing that was real, sacred, her cat.  He is real Quin, he is real.  Come here I want to show you something Quin.  Do you see this Window, it protects us from cold, from rain from the elements of nature, and even if I touch this I cannot feel the rain, I cannot feel the wind blowing through my hair….. this is the feeling I have when I am on my tablets, I can see but cannot feel, like the glass separating me from being alive, and do you now understand why it is I wanted to go off my tablets?  I want to experience …….. I wanted to be the paper bag floating in the wind, I wanted to be the leaves dancing like lovers in a tango.  I wanted to be that human being feeling every drop of rain pouring down on my naked soul………

You are real to me Quin, in every way you are real thank you for your love.  Let’s go outside Sky, let us go and dance in the rain, feel alive, be the leaves, be the paper bag… and let us lean our tired bodies against the bark towers……let us live each day and do one thing to make us come alive, to feel that tango.  Let your mind go places, let it be…….and the war will end.

Like old companions they stepped into the experience , and now the window is witness to them feeling,  someone else is watching them through a window, someone else that cannot feel, that cannot laugh that cannot cry.  For now they are experiencing life of being life itself…..


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