I’ve been walking in the same way as I did,
And missing out the cracks in the pavement,
And tutting my heel and strutting my feet,
“Is there anything I can do for you dear? Is there anyone I could call?
No, and thank you, please madam, I ain’t lost, just wandering”

So she paints her nails a festive candy pink, and shows it off to herself under bright chandelier lights. It’s difficult to opt how to look at it. Under the white light, or yellow-orange. Tough decision, for such a pretty color. And this is special, it makes her feel like a princess, with liquid cotton candy on her nails. She can’t stop looking at it, tear her eyes away from it. It lifts up her spirits. It makes her want to don those rose tinted shades (again) and run around painting the town red, run wild. Clear her mind, and let the colors explode until she feels like the end of a rainbow waiting to be discovered. 

She wants to feel happy again. She wants to live in a bubble too.

But then, everyone loves a sad story with a happy ending. Everyone loves it when things suddenly turn around, with some lucky twist of fate and all is forgiven, forgotten. It’s all in the past, lost to present happiness, into oblivion. A vacuum filled with happy, gooey, warm and cosy. Except that warm and gooey and happy and all those things don’t come about in real life. Except in brief bursts that pop like flimsy bubbles from the cheap soapy water they sell outside parks here. Or vividly painted toe nails.

You end up watching excessive amounts of Grey’s Anatomy and start sounding like a teenage Meredith Grey going through a midlife crisis at 18. And a weight problem (which makes it slightly Bridget Jones-isque too). So yeah. Ha.

I ain’t lost, just wandering.