Liquid Joy

I've done it, I've cracked it, what I’ve discovered could solve depression and bring about world peace.

Maybe.

It’s a simple act, so very easy, honest.

Have you ever been sat in bed, tired and bored, maybe you woke up unexpectedly at 3am with blurry eyes and a dry mouth. 

You can’t be bothered to sit up so you clutch the glass of water by the bed with your limp fingers and clumsily bring it to your lips, you know this will not end well. 

You and I both know that this can’t work out.

In fact, physics and gravity deny the possibility of you being able to simply take a graceful sip and place it back on the side.

So you end up pouring water down the sides of your face, it runs down your cheeks and into the once warm curves of you unsuspecting neck.

You are not only woken by this but also somewhat aroused.

Not in the sexual sense of course.

You take a hand out from beneath that safe, heated duvet and rub the back of your neck, you fingers dappling in the chilly pool of water.

Well, you think to your self, this is new.

So you’re feeling uninterested, unsatisfied or just plain miserable.

Maybe you’re sitting at your desk, bored of the click-clack of the keyboard.

Take some water in your mouth.

Tip your head back.

Lifting your tongue, parting your lips, push the water out of your mouth.

Down cheeks, across collarbones, maybe down a cleavage.

You’ve seen it in movies a dozen times.

The hero reaches his arms to the sky with an almighty cry, a shriek at the heavens which pour down on him, soaking his face, perhaps mingling with tears.

This is your own version of that, reduced in size and with less theatrical extravagance.

But you can’t deny the spontaneity.

And that is the spice of life is it not?

Perhaps it is just refreshing, or something novel to amuse yourself with. 

Perhaps it is simply doing something that you know you really shouldn’t.

And in that sense it becomes an indulgence.

Give it a try, I promise you’ll feel something.

Even if that something is just slightly damp.