Perfect Instance

February 22, 2018

When you’re lost among the sweet echoes of guitar strums or slow, ethereal drum beats, sometimes you lose sight of everything else. It’s like a combination of good and bad, everything you should and shouldn’t hope to possess. The feeling of bliss that makes you forget everything else, it makes you na├»ve again, it makes you ignorant, vulnerable.

Do you want that?

It’s the blessing and curse of falling for someone that makes your knees buckle and creates flutters within your chest, out of your voluntary control and opposite your desire, deeming you almost completely and utterly helpless to the siren song. You wish to be grounded and logical and cold and calculating, but some unblossomed fragment of your heart now has the power to overcome and thwart your defenses, all that you spent your life fortifying and arming with the weapons you gained through time and trial and tribulation. Your conscience struggles to stay afloat, to not be dragged down into the depths of ignorant bliss.

The taste is bittersweet upon your tongue, a confusing pang resonating within your chest as you wonder whether or not this defines happiness or appeasement and as time then had slowed but never really stopped.

And even though you managed to slither your way out of its monstrous grasp, it was perfect…

In that instance.