Blossoms tumble out of memories, thoughts of a lightning mind now so far away...Yesterday I awoke feeling oddly happy. It was almost unnerving. "I want to be less happy..." I mused on the thought that day, close to convicting that sentiment at times. The sensation of happiness, if that's what this can be called, at first felt dangerous because it interfered with my interest in things. I wanted to go off on mental tangents, which is good, but exercising felt more difficult, and approaching schoolwork felt like a turn-off. "I'd rather do as I like." Ideas flowed more easily, too, so in a way the better-than-school sentiment had some bearing. Ah! My small world out of balance, it seems I've become so rigid.

The issue isn't a matter of happiness, but rather sustainability. If I embraced this feeling, where would I be after it left? There is, then, merit to the marathon: passions are sustained and whim is less dangerous. Moreover, I hadn't felt that 'happiness' feeling in a long while, the kind that genuinely excites the mind. This marathon approach, first mile though it may be, might be good then.

Today was, self-evidently, nothing of the sort.