bliss, however long it lasts, can never be more than a small bitty thing you put in some corner and take out and roll around in your hand every so often to smile at, like a shiny pebble. It's untarnished and perfect, so there's no point in ruining it with mediocrity and insecurities. the inconceivable opportunities that create smiles and ecstasy are puffball dandelions that you still pick out of the grass at a backyard party and stop, if only for a split second, and smile, maybe sigh. you go through your day-to-day, up and down up and down. And it's deserved, and it's real and lasting, and it isn't stagnant or dreary and you're happy with the complexities and drama because it's like an onion and that's also good. so your little pebble exists within the churning ocean waves and the water and the salt and the sun are your blanket and when the light hits just right, like it always does, that seemingly insignificant moment shines bright for that eternal split second, because that's what it was there for the whole time, and there is nothing that can ever be wrong with that.