I wish I could stretch out the moments where I’m blissfully happy.
The moments where I eat something so delicious, I have to stop doing everything else and focus on savouring the moment.
The moments where I listen to a song I used to love ages ago, and realise that the feelings I have towards the song remain unchanged.
The moments when I realise it’s been quite some time since I’ve been sad.
The moments when I breathe in the fresh, cold air of winter and realise that this winter isn’t as cold as I expected it would be.
The moments when someone understands the feelings and emotions I hide under the guise of fictional storytelling.
The moments when I come across a brilliant written work, a small quote, or a relatable anecdote that teaches me a new perspective to something I already was acquainted with.
But I also realise that elongating happy moments into a longer, epic fantastical moment reduces my chances of experiencing new and possibly-different happy moments. I sadly know that my fickle mind flits from one moment to another, throwing out happy as well as sad moments into a landfill of fading memories of the past.
Maybe I need to install a basketball hoop in my brain, and keep a large Jacuzzi right under it. Maintain a scoreboard of how many happy moments I’ve had, and cherish them by jumping right into their squishy warmth when I feel the need for emotional healing.
Maybe I need to install a paper shredder and a small bookshelf in my head for all the sad moments. Keep the sad moments on the bookshelf till I figure out all the lessons, and then destroy it the minute I’m done peering at it through a microscope.