Admiration is the highest form of pleasure to me.
There are these moments that I find that are perfect. In my opinion, there’s no true definition for perfect though. Everything observed is done so subjectively. We can entertain fantasies of the greatest things we can possibly conceive that are subjective to and owned by us.
An organically occurring perfect moment, out there in the bloody wild, just happened. And the beast put down its claws. Withdrew its teeth, and laid still. Listening to the faint breathing of a sleeping wood elf. And even though it diminished in the daylight as it sat and guarded, I just kept squinting at the light and saying, “Yeah, still there.”
I’ve said before it’s comical how easy it is for me to fall in love. Which is half true. It’s different from how easily I can normalize my way out of attachment. I’m a solitary creature by nature, walking backwards towards the light, but when a moment hits me where I want to believe in a god of abstract conceptualized will and worship it for its reflection of this girl, I know I’m fucked.
But it’s about owning your reality. The past is in the past. Swallow it and move forward.
With regards,
–J