why is it after reading something so blindingly brilliant or beautiful, or creating something like that, i end up being unhappy?

simple answer: i know, it's because the rest of life is not like that
real answer: i try to dissect it and let it fall to pieces before i let it go and it ceases to be so beautiful anymore until i forget about it and return to it at an as yet unascertained point of time in the future.

No comments: