Good morning, world.
I open my eyes to dazzling lights, reflected and refracted a million, billion times, shattered and sparkling. Lights form buildings so tall they scrape the very ceiling of the sky, poking into the underbelly of heaven. Lights dance and weave and sing; they call to me and reach to the very essence of my soul.
I open my ears to the endless, infinite roar, that whoosh and rush, that hurly-burly of a tidal wave of noise that cascades through the streets, flooding my world. There are two types of noise. Natural and mechanical, and they all blend in a discordant, jarring way that makes my mind spin and my heart ache.
I open my mouth and sing, and I see my voice curling into the sky above me like a magical smoke, I sing in a huge and beautiful rush that thrills me and loves me, and that wraps itself right around me. Laughing, crying, shouting all at once, I dance and love and let my world love me.
I open myself to my world, Saoirse's world.
I let everything in, and everything out all at once. I accept and reject, I love and detest. A whirlwind of pure colour and life and meaning is so overwhelming, that for one small second, I pause.
And in that one small second, my world implodes, shrinking so rapidly that I have no time to collect everything back together. Memories, pictures, sounds and tastes are swallowed up in the blink of an eye, and only I remain, in the bare centre of my world, now empty.
Slowly, I sit up. I yawn. Nothing is unremarkable. Nothing is out of place. I am Jane again, plain Jane, and Saoirse is gone.
I am Jane again, and Jane's world is endlessly black, endlessly empty.
I am Jane, and I cannot see, and I cannot hear, I cannot speak.
I am Jane, and Jane is me.