( exhalation, deflating with a sigh and the strange feeling of a knot of affection and whatever other emotions forming in his chest. how, and why, aren't currently necessary to examine. neither is the fond exasperation.
he gets this. really, he does. )
Happiness is like the tides, less like the river. Flowing in, ebbing out, yet always there, always potential, low or high. Not the steady flow with interruptions by season, nearly always equal.
There is this happiness, and tomorrow's, and yesterday's. You are more full with happiness today. I'm glad for it, and if you're less full of happiness tomorrow, I'm glad for whatever happiness you still find.
Indulge today. Grow round and fat and pleased with it. No fear that it changes, as everything changes, and changes yet again.
Come. Bathe. Drink. The world will swallow of us what it can. Let us raise cups to each other and swallow first.
no subject
he gets this. really, he does. )
Happiness is like the tides, less like the river. Flowing in, ebbing out, yet always there, always potential, low or high. Not the steady flow with interruptions by season, nearly always equal.
There is this happiness, and tomorrow's, and yesterday's. You are more full with happiness today. I'm glad for it, and if you're less full of happiness tomorrow, I'm glad for whatever happiness you still find.
Indulge today. Grow round and fat and pleased with it. No fear that it changes, as everything changes, and changes yet again.
Come. Bathe. Drink. The world will swallow of us what it can. Let us raise cups to each other and swallow first.