Not What It Seems To Be
She felt like one of the spiked pollen balls being blown away from a tree by a divergent gush of breeze. She likened herself trapped in a translucent ball of white furry fluff, helplessly and reluctantly removed from the people she loves. Subject to the whimsical vagaries of the wind, she did not even know where she was heading next.
Below this figurative ball, she could still hear the laughter, chatter and varying din caused by collective and separate conversations. More importantly, as she was reluctantly being whisked away, as if in some cinematic glazed photographic effect, she could still see the facial expressions of a particular person who had surprised - and mystified - her that evening.
She loved this dashing chap, but with no prospect of a return to her of the care she consciously and sub-consciously projected for him, she had decided that "to truly love someone is to let him go free". It was perhaps some convoluted thinking on her part, but this very subject of much love had on this occasion accompanied a serious lover of his own. She desperately - and instinctively - wanted to be nice to this new someone, who now takes care of her object of her affection. Her object of unconditional love did enthusiastically greet her, despite the crowdedness of the small hall. At first, she did not even realise that the stranger sitting a few seats away from her is the new love of her continuing love. She was not introduced to this person, when others were, throughout the progress of the function, but she was anyway, for most of the night, oblivious to the variety of developing social scenarios playing out at the party.
After dinner was over, and when it was time for the guests to move on, she was finally introduced to the new person in the life of her loved one. She tried to make small talk with this new person, but she sensed an increasing steely look of indifference - and ultimately clear signs of no intention of being even superficially friendly - from this potential acquaintance. How ironic, how strange, she thought, that she was left almost talking to herself, with no response afforded her in return. Did she wear a confronting perfume, or was this new person unfriendly with the other party goers too? Honestly, she did not know what to do for more than a few frantic minutes.
In life, she wanted to avoid the average and allow more love to come in to her realm. She was already having difficulty trying to connect in this simple social scenario. Was it her fault, did she do anything to deserve this cold treatment? Things happen for a reason - but she was just first trying to figure out the reason itself. In the warm night air, it dawned on her that, as her little pollen ball rose even further away from all these things, everyone else, including the subject of her affection, had been so nice. It finally put her frame of mind in perspective; more so, her little pollen ball was carrying her to a new realm of life's possibilities.
Below this figurative ball, she could still hear the laughter, chatter and varying din caused by collective and separate conversations. More importantly, as she was reluctantly being whisked away, as if in some cinematic glazed photographic effect, she could still see the facial expressions of a particular person who had surprised - and mystified - her that evening.
She loved this dashing chap, but with no prospect of a return to her of the care she consciously and sub-consciously projected for him, she had decided that "to truly love someone is to let him go free". It was perhaps some convoluted thinking on her part, but this very subject of much love had on this occasion accompanied a serious lover of his own. She desperately - and instinctively - wanted to be nice to this new someone, who now takes care of her object of her affection. Her object of unconditional love did enthusiastically greet her, despite the crowdedness of the small hall. At first, she did not even realise that the stranger sitting a few seats away from her is the new love of her continuing love. She was not introduced to this person, when others were, throughout the progress of the function, but she was anyway, for most of the night, oblivious to the variety of developing social scenarios playing out at the party.
After dinner was over, and when it was time for the guests to move on, she was finally introduced to the new person in the life of her loved one. She tried to make small talk with this new person, but she sensed an increasing steely look of indifference - and ultimately clear signs of no intention of being even superficially friendly - from this potential acquaintance. How ironic, how strange, she thought, that she was left almost talking to herself, with no response afforded her in return. Did she wear a confronting perfume, or was this new person unfriendly with the other party goers too? Honestly, she did not know what to do for more than a few frantic minutes.
In life, she wanted to avoid the average and allow more love to come in to her realm. She was already having difficulty trying to connect in this simple social scenario. Was it her fault, did she do anything to deserve this cold treatment? Things happen for a reason - but she was just first trying to figure out the reason itself. In the warm night air, it dawned on her that, as her little pollen ball rose even further away from all these things, everyone else, including the subject of her affection, had been so nice. It finally put her frame of mind in perspective; more so, her little pollen ball was carrying her to a new realm of life's possibilities.
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