You wake up slowly, feeling the sunlight on your face. You’re happy. That’s the first thing you really notice - how simply content you feel, lying on the floor. It takes a bit before you begin to wonder why you’re on the floor. It’s a bit longer before you wonder whose floor this is.
Your mental processes feel slow. Realizations aren’t coming quickly, and while some things feel confusing, it’s hard to muster up the energy to be actively curious about them. Yes, you’re in a strange place, lying naked on the floor. But you feel fine about that. Just accepting it seems preferable, somehow, to worrying or thinking about it. More pleasant.
Your body feels odd. Different. You arch your back a bit, experimentally, the heft of your breasts feeling more substantial than you remember. Your stomach feels more trim. You’ve been playing with your hair for a few minutes now, and only now do you start to wonder if it’s always been like this - so long, flowing, luxurious.
There’s a vague buzz in the back of your mind, like a fly caught against the screen in a window. You pay attention for a moment, but it’s unpleasant. It feels like… stress. Worry. Fear. Anxiety. Doubt. You don’t like how it feels, so you turn your focus away. It’s so much nicer to just lay in the sun and not think.
You wonder vaguely if you’ve changed somehow. You have a slight memory of being different. Not having this perfect body. Not being able to simply turn off your mind. Being a prisoner of your thoughts and fears and stresses. Not being perfect.
You don’t know how you ended up this way. You don’t care. You’re grateful. You love it.