it’s a confession, really, that the sheer BRIGHTNESS of something can still unravel me, sending that prickle behind my eyes not just for sadness, but for a joy so piercing it carries the echo of every single loss i ever felt, leaving this strange warmth in my gut like a bruised peach even while my skin feels suddenly too tight. i thought i’d finally learned to laugh without that undercurrent of everything else, but sometimes it all just rushes in, a beautiful, bewildering flood.