J.

“this reminded me of you” is one of the sweetest things someone can tell you. you’re in their thoughts frequently enough for them to see pieces of you in a song they listened to or a book they read or even in the character of a show they’re watching

do you ever experience a moment of beauty and connection—like a call from a friend or the way soup your brother made you smells or the way you glimpsed the face of god when you heard a good song 20 times in a row one dark early morning or the way you see traces of dead loved ones in yourself the older you get—and think, “hey. maybe I can survive on moments like this forever. maybe i don’t need to express myself publically just because that’s the norm; maybe private moments of beauty are still enough, more enough than sharing everything or being understood or the idea of being accepted... maybe the loneliness of being has always been meant to be felt in conjunction with experiencing beauty... maybe nothing in between birth and death is real except revelatory experiences like this.” and then you have a sense of clarity, just for a bit, before it fades as normal habits take over... well, I think anything that you think or instinctively know during moments like that is the closest thing to clarity / understanding we all get to have. keep these moments close and don’t forget.

walking in the night and you look up your eyes adjust to the dark and 1 star turns to 5 and 10 and 20 . scooped rice into a bowl . every day i experience what people call god in a different way

"I'm still kicking" is such a funny way to say "I'm still alive". Like lol. I'm still thrashing. Flailing. Writhing even. The violence remains.