Posts in Thoughts

Happiness is an incredible, infinite gratitude for everything that is happening to you right now. Oh! My universe! I thank you for this bliss! For the bliss of feeling life in every cell of my body! For the joy of having arms and legs with the ability to move them! For the thrill of having a brain and the ability to move it!

I love it when it starts to darken during the day because there's a heavy leaden cloud hanging overhead, filled with thunder. The branches reach northward under the force of the warm wind, and the grass trembles at my feet.

I’ve always been stumped by the question, "How are you?" Or, for that matter, "How’s it going?" You forgot how to live, and you’d answer, “Nothing much.” I usually say, “Good” or “Great!” Or sometimes, I have this passphrase: “Awesome!” which, of course, doesn’t really capture the vast variety of my existence. However, it’s said that those who go into too much detail when asked, “How’s it going?” risk being labeled as boring, so I won’t go into a deep dive about what's going on in my mind, subconscious, and so on.

I meet them on my way. Worlds fly past me — parallel, not perpendicular. We do not intersect with them. It's me who is ready to be flexible and meet. They are also ready to meet, but they don’t know how to part. They are afraid of parting. That’s why they never meet. With me.

You know, I don’t always behave “properly.” Who wrote these rules? And why do I hear that “my love” isn’t the way it’s supposed to be?

I agree that it's important to take into account the rules established within the "husband-wife" system (oops, got a bit complicated there, let's simplify). If it's established that "left" is just as natural as "right," then no complaints are accepted.

Men often complain that there are no real women left these days. Women, in turn, complain that there are no real men anymore. And yet both men and women might very well be "real" within the framework of their own gender (awkward wording, perhaps, but at least the meaning is clear).

I long for closeness. For understanding each other with half a word — when I say only a fragment of a thought, and HE picks it up and answers — also with a fragment — and I understand.

Sometimes, in a surprising way, you start to understand the meaning of songs that have long been sung for you. Only during their life did their meaning somehow slip away from you. Because of a lack of life experience.

One day, after parting, still experiencing the remnants of the fading love… Cherishing glimpses of magical memories, like the warm light of the last rays of the sun in September… Rising on the wave of sensations again and again, warming oneself with the fragments of sensory memories of touches…