Sitting on the scratchy surface of my front balcony, my back against the even rougher beige brick of my apartment's exterior wall, I am taking great pleasure in my two drugs of choice. Rather surprised that I am not sleepier than I should be, considering the past two nights of awesome benders, the first having spent the remainder of the evening in great company and the second having gotten too wasted for my own good with my two crazy girls while celebrating the end of an era for one of them; the accumulated lack of snooze-worthy hours should have, by now, hit me and made me fatigued beyond repair, but surprisingly I have been up since 7am and do not feel the tug of sleep at all.
I am seated with my legs bent, my feet drawn in close towards me, letting both innocent and more painful thoughts flit through my head like the black birds in flight I am observing. The two of them are involved in an intricate aerial ballet, shrieking as they dive and swerve towards and away from each other. The soothing sound of the dried out pods in the trees lulls me into a pleasant and calm state of mind and I close my eyes for a brief moment. Snippets of songs blaring from my office reach my ears and I softly mumble the lyrics sung by various artists like Bon Jovi, Florence and the Machine, Amanda Marshall, Fiest, Sia and my new favorite singer, Adele, while the traffic on the main street creates its very own symphony by interjecting with each speeding car.
Today has been a beautiful one, not only because of the Spring weather, but also because I have been doing nothing more strenuous than reading while basking in the glorious sun, doing laundry and eating a tasty ham sandwich while in the company of my mother. Listening to Adele's wonderfully crafted song "Someone Like You" for the first time brought with it some tears of regret and feelings of failure, but I masochistically listened to it repeatedly at least ten times, in awe of both the words and the powerful voice singing them. Belting out the lyrics through,or because of, the salty liquid streaming down my still slightly chubby cheeks, creating a streaky and smeared mess of yesterday's mascara, my voice building in assurance and growing with confidence with each uttered syllable. The result of my audience-less, unless you count my cat as an audience of one, and solo performance has been an even raspier and sexier voice. Despite the bludgeoning of emotions I have experienced, each guilty thought acting like a stone being cast by an associated memory, I am feeling strangely calm and sated now, the tears having dried up and the runny mascara having been wiped away.
Another evening planned out with the girls at our usual and preferred haunt has turned into a prolonged me day, so I decide to rent movies and stay in. I take a shower to wipe away last night's debauchery and sense a cleanliness within myself that transcends the mere soap, water and shampoo I used. I tuck my legs under me on the couch and snuggle deeper into the green fabric's welcoming folds, having grabbed my cozy blanket for the occasion. Velvet decides to join me by curling herself up into a tight little furry ball in the crux of my left arm. I watch the two movies, absentmindedly petting my purring beauty, getting lost within the stories unfolding in front of my eyes and enjoying my own and my cat's company for the rest of the evening.
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