Euphoria

by Lily King

My heart whapped in my throat and all I could think was how to keep them, how to keep them. I felt my loneliness bulge out of me like a goiter, and I wasn’t sure how to hide it from them.

But at that moment the place feels entirely yours. It’s the briefest, purest euphoria.’

We’re always, in everything we do in this world, she said, limited by subjectivity. But our perspective can have an enormous wingspan, if we give it the freedom to unfurl.

I want to write more but too many feelings are bottlenecking somewhere near my collarbone.

You don’t realize how language actually interferes with communication until you don’t have it, how it gets in the way like an overdominant sense. You have to pay much more attention to everything else when you can’t understand the words. Once comprehension comes, so much else falls away. You then rely on their words, and words aren’t always the most reliable thing.

The pleasurable part of the fantasy was always in the coming home and relating what she had seen.