She is perfection. She might be called a socialite, but that title seems to defame her. True, she is a person fond of social activities and entertainment. Yet this is but a segment of her appeal. That she may be in high demand within all of her social circles speaks only to an unmistakbake radiance, unmissed and unseen – her very own radioactivity. For there is a potency and intangible danger about her, but danger in only the best radical sense of the word. She is an earthquake waiting to happen, but one that can only knock humanity into its own betterment.
She is a woman, perhaps the woman – self-assured, sexy, and brilliant. She’s got everything she needs, she’s a scholar, she don’t look back. She never stumbles, she’s got no place to fall. Her intelligence commands the respect of every room she walks into, not by decree but by coversation. She is a maven of many things relevant and intriguing, the sharpest knife in the Crillon kitchen. Her contemplative silence is more interesting than the last ten thousand words I’ve spoken.
She is self-assured to the nth degree. She knows what she wants and is even more certain about what she thinks – challenge her at your peril. Rare is an existence that flows from its own enjoyment and conviction; rarer still is a life this aplomb; and it is more likely to win the lottery than to find such an existence and such a life complemented by a mind so incisive. She has a presence in any event that is at once carefree and inexorable – it cannot be ignored, though nobody would dare try to. The upright manner with which she carries herself is arresting in its own right.
She is gorgeous from the inside out. Her intellect is astounding and her ebullience incomparable. Her exterior seamlessly mirrors the brilliance within. Her disposition is unobtrusively advertised by every adventure beyond her domicile. Her look is informed only by that which she approves of and relishes in – high, low, and the rest of society be damned. And every day the world nods in approval to the point of whiplash.
She is irrepressably jovial. We have embarked on many a misadventure together, forged many a misplaced memory, and fought over the ownership of at least one hamburger. We are adept role players in some of each other’s fondly-held recollections. She has never shied away from drink. And to drink with her is to immerse and join in her joviality. She benefits from the fact that the positivity she embodies is only amplified by intoxicating liquors. Her radiance and enthusiasm is simply made blinding, if it was not already found at such a state.
In the meantime she forges on to an M.Sc. almost as a matter of course. Medicine was her calling from a young age. She is not so much suited to the program as it is suited to her – surely it is honoured to count her among its ranks. She will be unable to do anything less than excell on her chosen career path, imbuing everyone around her with an unassailable espirit de corps.
All this, while being profoundly genuine and solicitous. She is the everywoman – if every woman were effortlessly magnificnet. She seems to hold the same hopes and dreams and desires that you do, or that you wished you might. If humanity possessed all of her qualities there could be no conflict, no war, no despondency, no suffering. The world is better for her being in it. Soo too my life, populated as it is by her incomparable authenticty.