i often fear for my sanity to such extreme degrees that my innate fear of death equals my fear for being alive. in such moments, i look up at the heavens and remind myself that i am an infinitesimal being in a vast, untapped universe full of mysteries -possibly finite yet impossibly overwhelming.
then i look at myself in a mirror, and i am reminded that i too am plagued by the quintessential human problem, that of hope, and it being both the greatest human strength and the greatest human weakness.
and after all that, i look at my hand, and marvel at how perfectly a cold bottle of beer fits in its palm.
enough said. tomorrow’s another dark sunlight. sweet dreams butterfly.

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