Swimming in the soup of my former brain, I take stock. Swept up by that wave of momentary euphoria that came crashing into the rocks of reality, crushing me.
I am staring blankly at the Peace Lily on my desk, thinking about NASA's findings on its ability to remove toxins from the air, idly wishing that something so simple and pure could remove the toxic perceptions that pervade the minds of those so utterly determined to destroy.
I look into my heart and see that despite the horror that these minds are determined to rain down on the innocent, I can't find it. I can't find the hate. Can't share their view of the world. Maybe I'm afraid that if I did, if I could empathise by hating them as much as they themselves do, I might lose myself to that feeling. Right now, all I feel is unimaginable sorrow, wonder at how their perception of a gift as incredible as life became so consumed by the dark.
But we carry on. That's what we do. We are stuck with each other. And we are stuck with each other for the long haul.
Catrin Finch's Drifting floats from the speaker in the kitchen. A furry, purring body lies stretched by my side. The sun is warm. Curtains billow. Wind caresses.
Death is inevitable. We can only hope that in another dimension, Death has found hatred, intolerance, the twisted logic that drives desperate people to do desperate things, wrapped them in his cloak and committed them to that empty vacuum beyond the edge of our Universe. Our incredible, fathomless, soul-inspiring Universe...