Self-Portrait for Anthropology

Strictly for your enjoyment, dear reader. Everything you need to know is in the video description.

Dearest Love,

There's a lyric in an Owl City song that goes "And I'll look at my hands and feel sad, 'cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly". How can those words reverberate in my soul so much when you're only a few steps away? How can you be the vehicle through which I find so much happiness, but also the one thing that makes me sad? 

I think I fear for what will be our future. I fear for a day when I might be alone, and I look back and regret the days I spent wishing your hand was in mine but not bothering to ask you. There might come a time when I can no longer kiss you and then I'll feel pain for every moment I could have felt your lips against mine but didn't.

Time is infinite, but we are finite. And at some point, one or both of us will feel that loss - that stinging pain of realizing that there will be no more hands held, no more kisses given. Some day, I'll wake up without your arm around my waist and without your sweet whispers in my ear. Whether we are torn apart by internal forces, the world, or Death himself, I will eventually find myself in the dark, without your light to guide me home.

And it's the pain I'm living now that echoes that future. It's this sinking feeling that you are not infinite, and you can not be my vessel to happiness for the rest of time. It's the pain of knowing that love always leads to heartache.

But why do I stay, you may ask?

Because in order to feel heartache, you must first feel bliss. And you, my dear, are pure bliss.

- Sunshine