I wish all the cute things on here made me happy. I wish the hipster sunsets with triangles made me happy, or the GIFs of little puppies, or all the attractive women. I wish the cars made me happy, or the celebrity photographs. I wish the amazing writers I follow did, too. I do enjoy your work, all of you, and I’m humbled by it as well - it’s so impressive and dumbfounding. But as a sprig of joy in my earthen body? Can’t say it does quite that. I think, even after the burgers for dinner - cheese and mayo and all that - I’m still starving for something transparent. Something I can hold in my hand and call mine, something — someone*, that I want even before wanting them. That beforeness - would be the transparency. That unquenched thirst, decidedly lasting for eons - but not parching in nature. I know you’re all looking, too, if you’re not already with another human being who inexplicably is able to toss all the guilt of being one of us to the wayside. I hope you do find them. And I hope you have it. I hope you have that elusive, all-penetrating, all fearless kind of love. I hope it sits in you like an oven, and burns brightly till it’s over. Until you’re put in the ground, or sprinkled across some favoured bit of majestic scenery. I’ll see you there.
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