Since I customarily write to relieve myself of vexation and anguish, it is difficult for me to share happy moments in text. I fear that every translation of a pretty memory to written word will diminish its magnitude, its power, its hold over my heart. I am afraid that sharing my happiness will somehow dilute it—when all I want is for it to rumble within me, to thunder beneath my skin, to underlie the excitement in my smile and the sparkle in my eyes. I don’t want to write down every detail for my records, because I don't want to risk letting any of these feelings escape. I don't want my only memories to be on paper, I'm desperate to keep them bottled within.
I will write more in the new year, both out of necessity and at Master's request, but for now I am truly enjoying everything for what it is.