slew of words

perdure – verb – to continue to exist

Do you ever experience a moment so pure, so comforting, so ominously ideal, that you wish it could be your last?

Maybe it’s in a room with all of the people you know love you just as much as you love them. And the four walls surrounding you are the walls of a dive bar that holds as many memories as wood carvings in the paneling. And you’re the type of buzzed that makes you notice a halo around everyone you see, practically begging you to hand out compliments to strangers like candy. And when you close your eyes, you can distinctly pick out the sound of your friends laughing above the hum of the crowd. And you’re losing your voice from screaming along to karaoke together or trying to yell conversations above the music, but you don’t mind. And you eventually work up the confidence to grab the hand of one of them and yank them onstage to sing an 80’s pop hit into the microphone. And there’s this silent agreement that at karaoke nights everyone only chooses the kind of songs that make you feel at home. And you keep leaning over to rest your head on your nearest friend’s shoulder because it is the most solid place you could ever rest anything. And the promise of cheap, mediocre pizza next door is encouraging you to keep ordering another round. And time seems to slip through your fingertips as you’re not consciously aware of every minute passing like usual.

Whatever it is, all you know is that no feeling in the world makes you happier, so you never want to come down.

It would make the perfect final scene, fade to black, roll the credits. The perfect last chapter, no cliffhangers, close the book. The perfect curtain call, take a bow, walk off stage.

But that’s not the way it works. And instead, you perdure. And it’s hard. And you wait for another moment to feel as right. And just hope that the timespan in between is not as long as the last.