happy stuff

9:48 PM

Sometimes I sit in my room in the evenings and feel a bunch of feels but I have no words or places for putting them, so I just take pictures of anything that makes me happy.

They aren't really for looking at. They're for looking past. The misfortune is that the only one who knows the happy story to each thing is me, and every one else has to take it all at face value.

These days I'm not quite my once-was-self. I've got outside me a little more: outings, sibling-time, countryside jogs, old books, and hard work will do that to you. The odd turn of it though is that I've got more inside now. I oft complain to my diary self of what dull company I make; with my prattling, vanities and all. 
The petty insipidity and trivialities of my inner discourse get all crowded out by sun flares and prayers sometimes and it's just lovely.

Try it for yourself.

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