I was happy, genuine spotless happiness.
The kind of happiness that encapsulates your senses and throws you into life in a melancholy-proof bubble.
Owns up to your whole being and claims it.
I was happy and i had nothing to add to it, nothing to say about it, nor did i have the urge to come up with something.
I was happy.
And that was enough.
Now that my bubble has burst, observing in retrospective, i find it rather stupid how i had not bothered to keep a record or a thought-log of nearly 3 months that will most likely prove to be one of the most joyful awe-inspiring eras of my life.
I find it rather sad
how happiness
does/did
(not)
inspire me..............
Labels: Tales Of The Butterfly
welcome back.. 3rd post i witness in action, miss you.