It was like she was seeing the world through two kaleidoscopes.
One was brightly coloured, a collision of colours, sounds, sights, feelings, and tastes that could have only been classified as eccentric and wild. A feeling of freedom, undefined and unhampered that sent her heart skittering across the floor and her feet flying towards the open world beyond. A plane of existence where nothing could ever bring her down, strike her out of the sky, or send her down to an early grave.
The other, however, was nothing but blacks and greys that shadowed a landscape so bleak and hostile she wondered if it could possibly exist. Here nothing could go right, the world was always against her. Shattered glass sometimes reflected the bright colours of her other kaleidoscope, but it was only fleeting. Reflections of a technicoloured world that settled along the edges of her vision but were never there when she truly looked towards them. Always fleeting. This world drug her downward, forcing her lower than her lowest points and drove her down more and more.
It was at the times these two views crosses that her life felt in balance, the lows and highs not being too hard to grasp or to fight. But too much of one and too little of the other left her feeling trapped and hopeless, even in that brightly freedom. For even the brightest freedom is an illusion if there isn’t something to ground you down.