Acute.

I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they passCounting Crows, A Long December

The thing is, I'm acutely aware of my happiness. So much so, that it pains me, physically pains me. Sometimes I think, this time tomorrow something could have happened to any of them. In my mind, it's always a car accident--but it could be anything, really. An illness, a tragic shooting, a faulty beam, an angry person. Time is such a funny thing: it almost feels malleable, like if you want something to change so badly you can almost will it to rewind, like pressing a button on the VCR, bending the fork with your mind.

I don't know what's worse, being blindsided by tragedy or being acutely aware every second of how perfect and whole it is, only for the knowledge of how fragile life (and people) are--to haunt you every day. It's like being able to see EVERYTHING or hear EVERYTHING, it almost blinds you to it, deafens you. Sometimes I am frozen in fear at how deeply I am in love with the people in my life. I'll be enjoying a small everyday moment and it will be as though a camera has clicked in my mind, taking a picture, my heart content and full. And I think, I'm probably never going to know happiness like this again--because once one of them are gone, the key players in the film strip of my life; nothing will ever be the same. I will never be the same.

Sometimes it feels as though I'd rather be oblivious than so acutely aware. Because it could change so quickly, everything could change. And I know I can't go on being so happy. It doesn't seem fair. Perhaps, like always, I'm just preparing myself for the worst, hoping it won't sting as much. And one day when it does change, I can console myself with this: at least I enjoyed every second of it. At least I never took a single moment, a single person for granted. At least I'll have the memory of an unbroken heart.