Nothing, not finished

I saw something at the weekend, and it changed the way I see the world. It was nothing special, no big epiphany or massive Feng-Shui style life change. Non of that superficial bullshit. This was just an observation, of one human being to the other, and if im honest it brings a slight watery caress to the back of my eye balls if I try hard enough.

It must have been Saturday afternoon, after I'd visited "Steel Beauty Parlor" and had every remnant of hair, spot, mole and blemish peeled, ripped and singed from my skin. I could feel the denim of my jeans prickling against the fleshy part of my calf. It felt like the denim was a blind old man, feeling his way through a new landscape, wondering where all the trees and shrubbery had gone. It's only because I was trying to avoid thinking about the weekend ahead that these ridiculous thoughts were in my head in the first place. They sort of, meandered their way in through my skull and expanded, like a cotton wool ball in glass of water. No matter how much I tried they just wouldn't shrink to the dark spaces in the back of my head. I felt like a mental person in a room cushioned with thick white walls, although in this instance I was trapped inside my own head. Quite depressing really.

The bus was lurching along drousily. Not really caring where it went, it was only feeling the heavy load of football yobbos on it's back and wishing they would scatter into the jostling ferocity of the stadium. I hate football. Such an injustifiable waste of 90 minutes. How many lives can a Doctor change in that time? Yet there they are, practically aroused by the sight of some men, not even particularly handsome, prancing and mincing around a field, perhaps scoring a fluke or two. Ooh the excitement. Having said that, they do fill the city with colors. Explosions of red and green, blue and white dash across the road in front of me. It's like watching a pond full of exotic fish, frantically dashing about for their pellets of food. The smell of hotdogs and vinegar was overwhelming. Huge glass mirrors of nausea smashed into the air around me, reflecting the green tinged skin of my face. I leant my head against the cool window and something down below stretched and reached into my vision, and I could not refrain from looking down.

There was a gap in the crowd. People were shuffling, jostling. They stared into the space, and from my cliff top castle I could not see what they were looking at. Craning my neck I stared bleakly at whatever it was. Some people exchanged glances with each other, knowing glances, secret glances. Whatever it was held prisoner within the wall of people gave them much to think about.

At first, I saw nothing but a curve of metal, glinting in the sunlight and as more of this creature emerged I realised that it was a wheelchair. Ashamedly, I began to turn my head away. It seems strange to me, society is so desperate to illiminate discrimination yet it still cannot manage to look a disabled person in the eye. We have been set free into the cruel world that is our reality too early. We tried to fly into a dream and fell. For a moment I realised that I too had been sucked into that dream, because I too was exchanging a world weary glance with a man on the pavement, eyeing me from below. It was for this reason that I was still looking when the person encased in the wheelchair was revealed.

An amber waterfall. Bursting out of a small, rose coloured flower clip. It quivered in the sunlight, like a delicate autumn leaf. Wagging a frail finger at the shocked faces surrounding it. The breeze caressed the dazzling spectacle, running its fingers through the strands of silk that glittered as the late afternoon sun shattered off of them. It almost felt as if I could smell the lavender, taste the sweet scent of insence and camomile. I savoured it. Ran my tongue across my dry lips and devoured the incandescent flavour. Drugged, I clawed at the glass, pressing my fingers to it until they turned white. Her hair was manic. The wind was picking up and the little reeds of light splayed out into the air, fanning everyone around her. The wind rushed against her neck and with a quick hand, sliced her hair in two.

With one swift movement, her face was uncovered, revealing skin so pale it seemed transparent. The jaw was soft, like the feathers of a duckling mixed with the peachyness of a spoilt child. It was a smooth ivory curve that resembled that of a light bulb. I think that the blood red of her shirt whitened her skin to a degree, because she had almost vampiric qualities about her. It was almost as if the sun was so stunned by such a divine creature that did not dare touch her, for fear of breaking such a delicate being. Instead it hovered like a nervous child at the dinner table waiting to be excused. The light undulated in the air around her and every so often it would extend a timid finger of light towards her high, protruding cheek bones but each time it retreated hastily, too afraid to make a gentle salutation.

The bubble of space around her widened and her empowering presence parted the crowd as if it were nothing more than two pages in a book. Nothing more than bland pieces of paper in a novel that disinterested her curious mind.

My neurotic visions were displaced inside my head as the bus ground to a halt. I saw the visions skitter away to the dark part of my brain, the cupboard where nobody went. In this cupboard were thoughts that had never been spoken, idealogies that (if one were to express such things) could turn a single man into a pathetic heap of tears and terror. A counsellor had once tried to unlock The Cupboard. Even she could not find a key brave enough to look into the keyhole and endure the sights held within. No key cruel enough to release such demons.

Counselling was never really my 'thing' to be frank, in fact it just seemed to stress to me how disfunctional my life actually was. For years I had managed to build up a cosy nest of lies for myself that I could hibernate in during those painful winer months, fed by the occasional appearance of an attentive mother bird-"Now now, Jennifer, would I lie to you? You're doing FINE". It's sad really. I would rather be spoon fed lies than face up to the truth. Things don't get better on their own, if at all.

Hoards of rowdy men stampeded off the bus. I pressed my forehead to the chilly glass and watched them gallop away, yelping and wailing, preparing themselves for a bombardment of pleasures beyond their wildest imaginations. They swaggered into the jungle, melting away in the dull heat of the late afternoon sun. The Stadium reared its ugly head above the curvature of Trent Bridge. Sniffing the air, waiting for the insects to wander willingly into its open mouth. And then? It would consume them with a viscious growl of success. I shivered.

As the bus began to move away my eyes frantically searched the crowd for Her. I scanned the heads, waiting to see tiny jewel of her burning crown. The wave had caved in on itself, like a tidle wave at the end of its glory days, and I surfed the gentle backwash with a strange sense of bewilderment. She had dissapeared into the ocean, to drown or swim I had no idea. Sighing I turned my head to the front of the bus and stared idly out the huge window. Slowly I began to drown in the ridiculous thoughts once again. The sky was alive with clouds and creatures. There was a man, vaguely resembling the Marshmallow Monster at the end of 'Ghostbusters'. He was shuffling and wobbling through the pale blue abyss, consuming the tiny liquorice pebbles that it came across on its way. And then there was a unicorn. A magnificent creature, raising itself onto it's back legs and whinniying ferociously.