Y'know those feelings that make everything seem like everything is going all right, but really it's just God being a total jerk-off and giving you a taste of glory so that every other miserable moment of your time here'll be made even worse by comparison, those wonderful, truly sacred emotions that make you feel as though you're surrounded by love and acceptance in every possible capacity, that you actually have people who'd give a fuck if you died tommorrow. And when those confounded eras end, you're left in a sadness eternal, a pit of dispair as the veil is lifted and you understand that as an individual, you're very insignifigant and that those who you may have thought were eternal allies, are actually just shadows that honestly wouldn't assist you in a time of need. And like for some people with their own hope, which they believe springs eternal, the effects of hope on myself are for lack of a better word, middling.
Hope springs false and the loud prophet's fables fall upon deaf ears. The feeling of utter happiness, like a coffee table, is taken for granted when we have it, but when it isn't there, the marks on the floor it trails behind won't leave you and the only way to mask the ugliness is to buy some hastily put-together drawer that's only an inch too small so every time you vacuum you see the marks and realize what you've lost.
I miss those times. I miss looking into a lovely woman's eyes and feeling everything else disconstruct around me. I haven't felt that nirvana for a good while and although I want my better judgement to tell me that this feeling is so rare that I probably will only feel it once or twice, As of late, I given my better judgement the middle-finger and have been living pretty happily and I suggest you try doing that too.
One last thing, despite common sense, my own words and the supreme court, I'm not infallible (though I am dangerously sexy, which when used right, gives you all the power of being infallible).
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