Like Nothing Can Touch You

The last post that was not a piece of fiction from me was a tad on the depressing side, so, I figured I’d spin the mood around and deliver something happy while I sort out my shit.

Because, even if I talk like it is, complain, the world is not all darkness and fire—neither is it unicorns and the first bite of an apple on a summer evening as the sun goes down—but there are moments, even if they are fleeting, where one can raise their hands to the sky and say “this, this is the meaning of it all. Right here. Right now.”

I don’t know, nor can I presume, what will bring it on in yourself, and when you might experience this phenomenon for the first time, but, I am pretty sure we all get it at least once. Even if life only lasts a few seconds or a few years, I think we all get one.

And, it’s that spiritual, powerful, ethereal, cosmic, or plain chaotic luck, of the moment when you do not see the misshapen past, nor the visceral pain inherent in the existentialism of existence, nor overwhelmed or bedeviled by anxiety or panic or sadness at the sight of the things that might have been—or some way or another symbolic of foibles or strike—and simply…well…be as nothing can touch you.

Who cares if a car can still careen? We are a species of emotion and memory and the irrefutable nature of our own biases and opinions, and, in that moment, one feels as one with the safety of something beyond harm.

I mean, I have. I did—not hours before writing this.

No idea what specifically brought it on either.

Good friends? Good food? Love? Freedom? Youth?

God? Gods? Beings?

No clue what makes this cocktail have bite, nor what or who chooses when it might strike and when those same ingredients fail without a single spark of that delicious soul-freeing sensation, but, occasionally, hey—it happens.

There’s a thing called a runner’s high. You get it from running, duh. There’s the first rush of a lover’s kiss. The, dare I use the word, “orgasmic” nature of an expertly prepared dish.

These are all that. Life, pure and fresh and… fucking there, man.

I may sound like a hippy.

But, no.

Not some hippy stuff.

Ask a mother, within moments, what they experience while seeing their child for the first time, and they will know the same. Sure. The medical explanations for those sorts of feelings are well-established. Dopamine. Oxytocin. Adrenaline. And, perhaps, it’s just the body being happy. Rewarding survival actions like a trained dog.


But, even if so…

Does it matter? In that moment, I mean?

I like being happy.

Who doesn’t?

The chemical flood in the blood and brain is the last thing on the mind of those who are experiencing it.

Because nothing can touch them.

Special thanks to: Bob GerkinCollin PearmanDylan AlexanderJerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd. 

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