there's this wild, almost-electric buzzing just behind my kneecaps right now, not unpleasant, just… present, like the whole summer air itself decided to condense into a peculiar thrum and vibrate through my bones, and then I heard it, a sound so utterly pure it felt like a tiny pinprick right behind my sternum, that quick, bright flash of joy, so sharp it almost hurt, the kind that makes you want to just fall to your knees and weep, because how can something be so terribly, gorgeously beautiful and so painfully ephemeral all at once, and it brings with it a kind of ache, not a bitter one, no, not like the old days when my stomach would clench with that VIOLENT grip, but a gentle, almost reverent sorrow for all the joy that was ever lost, or never quite tasted, a relief and disappointment, both at once, like that old storyline that used to make me sigh, because even in this deeply good place, this steady, foundational hum I've been cultivating, there's always the ghost of the before, a whisper that reminds you of the grit it took to get here, and the sheer, almost overwhelming grace of being able to feel everything, even now, at this impossible volume, but not drown in it, no, never drowning, just… washing over, like a magnificent, untamed wave that I can actually stand inside of now, without bracing, just letting it flow, and it’s a strange comfort, this knowing that the edges of bliss always touch the edges of grief, like the way the skyline always meets the lake in Chicago, a blurred line of two immense, powerful things making something entirely new, something I might even try to paint, if the mood hits.