Butterflies

This empty white box both soothes and terrifies me.

How did I become so guarded? Why doesn't Dagny Taggart's cynicism shock me more?

Why do I get butterflies when I listen to Explosions in the Sky? Why do I insist that people work so hard to see me transparently? Who taught me how to do that? Will I accidentally teach my children to do that?

How do I reconcile my love and contempt?

Where do I sign up to become a monk.

The nuns have too many chicks.

Sometimes I think I can't handle anything more than praising God in silence for the rest of my life, though it's in God that I could.

Sometimes I want to look at everything I love in one place, breathe deeply, close my eyes, and walk away from it forever.

and just walk. forever.