Love is all around

"I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes"

I reach for the handle of the carbon-fibre door, as golden sunshine peeks through the edges, my grimey fingertips turn. I'm swimming in a pool of sunrise and rain, with long white socks, suspenders, my summer shorts, John Lennon on my chest and my trusty bowler hat. The nature-thriving scene evaporates with my dreams and a narrow corridor forms before me. The door slams shut behind me and I furrow my brows. Damit, I should have remembered my key.

So I awkwardly wander forward a few steps, noticing the poor finishing of the cracking cream paint on the walls around me, and feeling the creak of the dusty floor boards, leaving the souls of my white linen socks bleak and grey. I look forward, and keep seeing, there appears to be no end to this corridor, but there MUST be another way out, I'll just have to find out for myself.

I pull my right foot into my buttock, and then my left, stretch my arms and my back and click my neck to both sides. And, with a jump, I begin to run. A little slow at first, I've got to pace myself don't I?
After a few seconds I notice my lack of need for breath or air, I cannot tire, so I run faster, and faster. And faster.

"The love that's all around me
And so the feeling grows"

I've never run quite so fast before, my toes tingle in joyous love of the slidy floor and clumsy knee-high combination. A grin explodes on every square nanometre of my face, and I feel so alive. I close my eyes and he's holding my hand and Jessie is singing "When Somebody Loved Me" as I'm strangely close to tears. My lips widen and the hard wooden floor and clostraphobic corridor, suddenly appears comfortable and cosy :)

My lip is splitting with the effort to grin and my eyes are burning from the speed of the air wizzing into them. My stomache turns a little with the obscene speed of my movement and I collapse. My head bounces, somewhat playfully, as it shatters like glass on the floor and I sink into an old memory.

It is a sunday morning and my eyes are wrinkled in nightmare-ish fear. The eary sunshine peeps through my curtains and falls upon those eyes. They come alive and are relatively shocked at being awake. Not a secondly later they recieve awful brainwaves informing them that the aching pain of loss and longing deep in my chest, has reverberated through my bones and veins and lungs and is heading eye-wards. This is much worse than a frightening dream. My eyes water as Missy Higgins aids my ears in thier apparent sorrow, and time passes carelessly as begins my obsession of forgetting. They overflow and drench my pillow case until every happy memory disapparates without the aid of floo powder or a nimbus 2000.

"It's written on the wind
It's everywhere I go"

The sharp edged pieces of mein kopf retreat to their former positions, as if someone had pressed rewind on a universal remote, and all was well again. I pull off my socks in light haste and tie them like a scarf around my mosquito bitten neck.

My toes wriggle in the grimey dust in pleasure as I look down and smile his smile. At the next blink I'm transported, to a new musical, up in lights. "Saliva" was it's name, and it was to be running on the beautiful set of a tired, old mattress located in a bedroom of sorts, for the next five hours. Well, it was certainly the loveliest musical I've ever seen, though I'm not sure that "Remind me never to do anything, ever, again!", "That's just lacking abscence!" and "What are you doing!? ... I'll take that as a yes!", are very enlightening lyrics, though, we'll work on that.

But, none of that was important when he whispered in my ear words I'll always remember, though in their hasty tone, were sweet none-the-less. The abscence of feeling anything which one may associate with
":(", which abruptly took place when his lips touched mine for the first time. Only to dance forever in harmonious expressions of relief and happiness.

"So if you really love me
Come on and let it show"

I shake the hair out of my eyes while they watch for some action. The corridor is silent, and bare, and nothing is there. Except me.

I Suddenly feel alone, with a jolt of forgotten pain from months ago, or a very similar feeling. I see there is space ahead, but how can there be space if nothing is their to occupy it. So I run, my hair waving in gusts of increasing velocity and I close my eyes, as I know I may only go forward for the time being.

I look down and see my matching brazzier and pantie laden body, and not much else. I hear giggles and pleas of jealousy at the sight of my figure. I hear footsteps approaching the stairs and scutter to the comforting fan, only to stand by it seductively, yet carlessly willing for my body to be visually adored. There he is, nervously realising that a deal of lack in clothing was made, and there begins the string of perfect obscenities. I am suddenly wrapped in his warm arms, nuzzled against the curious beatings of his heart. With every movement is made preciously, and I feel like the most breakable object the world has ever known, safe in the most carefullest of hands.

I'm looking straight ahead in my alleged "weird look." I can't see it for myself, but I know what it feels like to wear such an expression, as it subconciously pops up when I least want to look like a raging peadophile. And there I see more corridor, with a slight haze of avocado green blinking back at me.

I realise now that, this corridor with all this useless space is there for one purpose only. For my life, and when it ends and I can no longer go further, I won't want to go back. I will become a slither of a corridor in a gigantic building of life. I won't feel or be, but the endless memories of love and angst and pain and all things imaginable, and imaginary, will sneak back through the crack at the bottom of the locked door, and wreak havock.

I also realise, that this endless (well, eventually, enevidably ending) corridor of plain nothing, will leave it's mark on life, just as I shall continue to leave marks of my own, in my own little corridor. I thought as I reached for my sharpie and printed on the cream wall "naww, ilys marebear" accompanied by a poorly drawn cartoon with a badly shaped speach bubble. And before I liquid paper it all out and write "blueblerry blast" in block letters over the top, I am engulfed in my lamity, almost drowning in fact.