Contented bliss.

The thing is, one should never be completely content. Utter contentedness means there is nothing left to know, nothing left to learn or feel. Every nook and cranny of the mind filled with gray cement and plaster. Being content means that it's okay for Death to clasps its cold fingers around my neck, and I am definitely not ready for that.

Still, in this moment, in this singular speck of time, I am content. Things are good, and I can only hope...