Among others before it, this week has been a continuing series of totally positive experiences. As I grow and expand my thinking about receiving all this positivity (when before I didn’t always choose to receive life that way), it makes me wonder about my theories of evolution of perspective.

With experience, age, and gradual acceptance of its slow inevitable approach, will I become less sensitive to death? Or is a change in perspective to value every moment in a positive light only a bad habit addicting me to a reality that must end? It must eventually happen: how is it possible to agree with letting go of everything I know and have grown to love? This is a paradox about which I think every day when I see her face, but life is truly its ultimate manifestation.

As nearly perfect as she is with me, nothing compares to the destruction of everything my mind has created since my birth. Losing her would be brutality beyond understanding; so what does that make death?

This week’s contemplation is nearly the same as every other, with slight variations of the same story. Sometimes these thoughts make me a little sad, yet I often realize it only takes a slight shift in perspective to arrive at another more acceptable place. It feels similar there, but the syntax is composed of less judgmental words and the outcomes are less definite. Instead of sadness there is emptiness, which isn’t necessarily negative like I used to consider. But I guess that is the reason for growth, and the purpose of a moving target.