Happiness.

Doesn’t seem to stay. It comes on with a possibility.  It ends with a decision.  Happiness, at least for me, only exists when I’m half certain I may not find it.

Relativity

We’re still connected, you and I.  ‘You’ are there in the lull of every day, the television shapes of each night.  Something’s wrong.  How I lose myself in others and alone, I find myself.  The rest is society’s dissasociation, seperation.  To defy that…to do something different… Knowing that you are embedded in every experience from this point on.  As things change–especially when they do–the revelation is more prominent: That nothing changes except the dialect of my thoughts and the definitive ‘we’ of it can seemingly never take on another form that is true.