sometimes I become overwhelmed at the realization of my own existence. this skin, these thoughts, these breaths, this beating heart are entirely my own, and with them I am enabled to witness the existence of you, of the world outside of my own, of the world we are a part of, a world composed of us, and it is all so clear, and all too much, and joy exists, it exists in the warmth of tears streaming down the contour of my cheeks, it exists on the tips of my fingers pressing down against this keyboard, typing the words we exist.
I exist, you exist, we exist, we exist, we exist.
I am utterly, entirely, overwhelmingly in love with our existence.