Sometimes, I think some rather random things. I don’t know if they are worth sharing or appropriate (well, the answer is probably a resounding “NO” on both counts there, actually), but, now they’re out there. And you can’t unread them. You’re welcome. 

There are times when the deepest pocket of the furthest corner of the darkest hole in the thick of the belly of the middle of nowhere is just not far-gone enough.

So what then? Call the whole thing off, so to speak? After all, distance and disconnect mean nothing to a dead man.

No, one can never call death a true victory. There is no pleasure in death. No relief. No peace. There is only a never-ending nothing, a void bereft of absolution, and death is absolutely irrelevant if one desires only this.

There are still pleasures to be had, even in this all-too-imperfect pocket. The smell of a long blade of grass snapped in two; the perfect feeling of the sun on your face in that split second before the warmth becomes overwhelming; that slight chill that runs through your body as a pressure shift precedes a storm.

The pain that develops in your ears from sound waves too loud to ever be safe. The dull, persistent stinging in your eyes that comes from staring at everything which captivates you. The stupor induced by a sleep that has ended far too soon.

Et al.

Live for these. Seek them out, and allow them to wrap a smile onto your face. It will eventually become your default mode of expression.

When the deepest pocket of the furthest corner of the darkest hole in the thick of the belly of the middle of nowhere is simply not far-gone enough, stop running. And when you do, try to understand this one simple fact:

Your life is the extremely unlikely yet fortunate result of several coincidences coalescing. The very insignificance of your life itself is its significance. Every part of you could just as soon be space dust. Relish the fact that for a brief moment of time, instead of space dust, you happened.

-Namakemono