This, too

The following may read a little grim. Don’t worry, it’s not an expression of my state of mind, except maybe for a minute or two. It just poured out of me in one flow. It is neither poem nor story, just a wave of words painting a picture.

This, too

Behind every pleasure there is darkness. In every heart-bursting, ecstatic moment of happiness lies a dark seed. You are aware of it even without being conscious of it – that is why happiness hurts, why ecstasy makes you gasp and draw in a ragged, desperate breath – it is because you can feel the edge on your throat. Every true moment of happiness has this dark side to it, the knowledge that this, too, shall pass.

Every time you think of your dreams, your heart expands with trying to contain your happiness. It grows, it puts pressure on your lungs so you cannot breathe properly. It puts pressure on your throat, so you cannot swallow properly. It makes your body tingle and your mind open up and a shiver passes down your spine, a feverish and fervent feeling that spreads to the rest of your body, like coldness, like heat, like madness. One heartbeat of ecstatic happiness and in the same instant as you become aware of your happiness, you see the darkness on the edge of the horizon, closing in so fast that you know there is no escape, and while you try to hug your happiness to your chest, to keep it to yourself, to not have it wrenched out of your arms, it is too late already. You may ignore the chasm that has opened up in front of you, that is beckoning you, but even while you look another way, pretending you cannot see it, it is there. Waiting. It is always there. You can only see it in your happiness. In your fulfilment. But it is always there, waiting for you to fall into the knowledge that you, too, shall pass.

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