Our Precarious Joy
by Alok [support the author]
feeling is dangerous because it requires us to dwell in anguish, rather than anesthetize it (as if it never happened). so many fear joy because they fear losing it. they hate us because we live here — in this precarious joy — and we have found preciousness, still. it is far easier to desensitize ourselves to the world. but what about the romance of living? the tundra of grief, of striving, of becoming like every breath is an invitation to another way of being? what about the dignity of being? i won’t settle for anything less. i would rather weep than pretend. i would rather be hated than be digestible. i would rather be mirthful than meander around like happiness is some rare ray of light piercing through my window. it’s not that we are extra, it’s that we are feeling and you are not (or rather, you refuse).
Peace, dwight
Our Precarious Joy
