My Days, Mine.

Knowing you will be infinitely alone, and excel at doing so, to finally hold disregard for the strange inferiority that crushes our ability to navigate, and to thrash away plagues of insecurities that contaminate us throughout the days and evenings of our lives, is something I have claimed to be my own. A possibility realised in a constant struggle for greatness of mind; now seeking methods to distinguish and adorn my experience with appreciation not embitterment. A time to supersede pettiness but enjoy the smallest of things, a time to remain in a state of drenching hunger yet collect sums of satisfaction, a time to cast the expectations of others and to extract from them that which I love. My motive, apparent. My joy, abundant. This may be the essence that embodies my chase, the very enchantment I have been seeking. This complex conviction that devours me is  now answered with a fullness, a wonderment spirited by itself. The life I have been waiting for in recurring aspirations has landed beside me, and it is so entirely convincing and wondrous.