Tie a string to the bottom of this feeling before it floats away.
This is probably the weirdest period of my life I've ever lived through.
It's like reinventing everything.
There's a feeling of happiness squirming underneath my chest that makes no sense, and has me smiling and enjoying the stupidest things: the fat on my cat's stomach when I roll him over, the ridiculous cover articles my roommate and I crow at in the grocery store line, the anticipation of rain when I know I have to go outside, the beats of my stereo that I feel vibrate under my feet when I'm cooking in the kitchen.
How is it possible to be happy?
Sometimes I don't understand it at all. Shouldn't I be miserable? I just survived the most horrible crisis of my life, and it's not like my situation has improved, and yet I lie on my carpet and breathe and think I'm alive, even when my muscles are aching and my teeth are hurting and I'm trying to figure out how to pay all my bills and the whole thing makes me want to laugh.
I spend my hours watching stupid TV shows and cleaning up and reading smut and then I go to bed and dream about crazy shit, and then I wake up and do it all over again.
Is this another form of insanity? Part of me thinks it has to be.
Why does it feel so good to be alive?
It's like reinventing everything.
There's a feeling of happiness squirming underneath my chest that makes no sense, and has me smiling and enjoying the stupidest things: the fat on my cat's stomach when I roll him over, the ridiculous cover articles my roommate and I crow at in the grocery store line, the anticipation of rain when I know I have to go outside, the beats of my stereo that I feel vibrate under my feet when I'm cooking in the kitchen.
How is it possible to be happy?
Sometimes I don't understand it at all. Shouldn't I be miserable? I just survived the most horrible crisis of my life, and it's not like my situation has improved, and yet I lie on my carpet and breathe and think I'm alive, even when my muscles are aching and my teeth are hurting and I'm trying to figure out how to pay all my bills and the whole thing makes me want to laugh.
I spend my hours watching stupid TV shows and cleaning up and reading smut and then I go to bed and dream about crazy shit, and then I wake up and do it all over again.
Is this another form of insanity? Part of me thinks it has to be.
Why does it feel so good to be alive?