john | March 24, 2022, 1:34 a.m.
It's been a minute since I last wrote. I guess life got a bit intense there for a second. Starting to feel the urgency again. The urgency to live. As if another reason was needed.
The mortality of the second we live in reaches the walls at times. It's terrifying. The need for fluff diminishes. Although, a flare to extenuate the the verbosity of the feeling is never disregarded but adored.
The reason some things are so adored is because they are in fact hard. Very hard. Some are arduous to achieve. Which when accomplished gush admirability by the presence of the accomplishment of the act.
It's hard to ignore. It overwhelms even the most innocent observer. There is a nervousness to it at all. As if the monster is ready to break out. Yet it dissipates when that gets written. It still lingers at the hand. Almost like a slight of hand.
It doesn't matter that the observer had a creator and that the creator had an observer. It never ends. Its cycle goes on and on because once it found a way why not keep looking for another.
There is a desire to not stop this time and I'm unsure when I will. Everything seems to be going fine even if the reality is calamitous. There is a sort of shield of something that knows its felt. It is an odd feeling, one which I've never felt.
I guess this is what happiness must be like. No other way to put it. The juncture that is life.
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