One day, I will no longer walk around with this low-grade anxiety hanging around me like a dirty cloud. You and you kind think you can just strut about like peacocks, vain as can be, trampling on whatever little self-respect we hold close to our breasts. You with your repeated cavalier swish and splatters, like pretend painters hurling colors on a giant canvas without so much as a vision nor purpose, expecting adulation and applause for plebeian uninspired work. You accept no debate nor disagreement, nothing less than our silent acquiescence.
Just imagining the moment fills me like a brim-full cup of creamy latte with its rich cocoa vanilla warmth tickling my nose. I begin to envision a new vista on the horizon.
I will quietly celebrate the dissociation, as is my usual style. My days will be brighter, sunnier, and cooler. I will feel reassured that you can no longer cause any harm to me nor those I hold dear. You and your lot will no longer elicit any kind of emotion from any of us. Your travails will cause no sympathy. Your triumphs, no joy. Only indifference. That would be all we could muster.
I will go about my days feeling a weight lifted off my back. I will dine with friends and family and our banter will be lighter, our laughter will be contagious. The food will taste exquisite. The wine, robust and multidimensional. We will all look at one another with quiet knowing bliss. We will feel no more bitterness nor hate. We will have moved on. We will have left you all behind.
This may be an odd interpretation of the Daily Post Challenge, Foreshadow. But, I wanted to build a scenario of what it would be like to anticipate the coming of a different life. It may not be too different form Pooh Bear’s anticipation of the taste of honey in his mouth before he eats it.