I can’t even explain it and it is so strange. And though I can be angry and sad, also, seeing with unclouded eyes that the world is imperfect, that so many people are poor and suffering in my country and in other parts of the world, seeing that and knowing, too, how hateful human beings can be myself included, that someday I will die, that someday I might have to bury people who matter to me, despite these things right now at the core I am just happy. Lost and confused, and uncertain, and afraid but I am just very happy to be me. I am not that naive to think this will last forever. This feeling will probably go and dissipate, or be violently replaced by anger, or swallowed by restlessness, but recording this memory, of this being pleasantly contented with myself, I find happiness in the thought that I can return to the thought of this, and maybe by remembering from a point in the future, the shadow, rather, the warm glow of this ember of bliss can reach me then through the years.