Life happens. Hopes are disappointed. Joy alights unexpectedly on the shadows of our days. And time ebbs and flows, days in and days out. A month and more has passed since the last update I posted, but so much happened in that brief space of time that I hardly feel equipped to comment on it. And Plootz, who is my only faithful reader, will hear about those days in her own time, I suppose, so I really feel no need to say more.
I wish that I could pull my heart out of my chest and freeze it. At least then it would take an incredibly hard knock to hurt me. And the blow that hurt would be the blow that killed, for a frozen thing does not bruise or tear: it shatters irreparably. Sure, I wouldn't be able to feel much else, but wouldn't it be a worthwhile sacrifice? Or is it that the things that elevate us to the loftiest heights of ecstasy are also the things that have the potential to trample us down into the lowest ebbs? Those are the things to which we have given weight, to which, as Aquinas puts it, we attach our pleasure. If we had no hope of the blessing of the kiss, would we ever risk the punch?