More wonderful than weird, really.

Somehow it is weird that in a weird way it’s quite wonderful. As much as I always want and need forgiving quietude, I never believe I can disassociate long enough to lose my self. Yet, quite easily and strangely confidently, though not completely without apprehension, I did. And for a minute there? Something disconnected and that other something which is something else took over. What was that, anyway? I can never know for certain but I should like to call upon it again, at will.

I knew I’d stepped outside myself as soon as I stepped beyond. Properly stuffed with caffeine and herbal tranquility, a hideous wreck of barely numb twitch and jitter, sweat-soaked from the sweltering anticipation and desirous of something stronger. Once within bounds, I immediately began shedding clues like layers of clothing. Shaky fingers, those that gave me away at first thought.

But soon those fingers were swept away, lost in a breeze that blew its way off and over that which I cannot bring myself to taint and sully with my rarely fitting words. I blinked tiredness into the bright morning warmth and tried to usher in the day and the sense. But the heat reminded me that I’d forgotten who I was, what I was, and even what I feared I’d be for just about long enough. Just long enough to know. Just long enough to realise there’s something wonderfully weird all about me.