Suddenly and without warning, you will become your best and most authentic self, even at parties, where normally you alternate between sullen silence and boorish jokes that always fall flat when they should have landed softly, or cut and draw blood when they were meant to tease. Now you will feel completely at ease, reconciled with every disparate part of yourself. Nothing can harm you because nothing can change you. You smile easily and often.
Every day is casual Friday. Every day is casual Friday. Every day is casual Friday. You are caught in a temporal loop where Every day is casual Friday. Every day is casual Friday. You awaken in despair. Every day is casual Friday. There is no way to change, to grow, to alter the path of your routine in even the slightest fashion. Every day is casual Friday. Perhaps tomorrow the weekend will come. Perhaps tomorrow’s order will return. Every day is casual Friday. You go to sleep wondering if you are brave enough to die. Every day is casual Friday.
Everyone you have ever loved who has died will be restored to you in the fullness of health. The husband whose will to fight drained out of his rasping throat in those final, awful days when the pain took his peace and sanity from him – your mother, whose once-brilliant eyes dimmed in the haze of medication and forgetting before dying alone in a hospital room with none of her children to shepherd her through the stark and lonely passage – your best friend from childhood whose arteries spewed and ended out onto the street as he lay breathless and panicked under the brutal, awful weight of his own car – all of them will revive and be made whole again and come running to you. You’ll hold them again, breaking your embrace only to draw back and gaze into their sparkling eyes, exclaiming, “But it can’t be -” over and over again, tumbling helpless and laughing back into one another’s arms. It can be. It will be. You will know no shadow of parting from them ever again.
Every day, the glasses within your cupboards come to life between the hours of eleven and one. They cannot move, and they cannot leave their positions, but still, they are happy. Softly they hum, and you can hear their gentle harmonies as you work at the kitchen table. “Hellooooo,” they sing to you. “Hello, hello, hello. We’re so glad you’re here.”
Hello out there to all you fashion-hungry Blufashion.com readers! My name is Iskra Banovic, and I'm a fashion writer. As the fashion expert for www.blufashion.com, I wish to bring a creative, informative, and inspiring aspect to the fashion content you have come to trust.
