Don't normally write about things like this...

Looking out at the lake, I am reminded of The Great Gatsby. I imagine an eternal light blinking in the distance, forever heralding romance, love, adventure, hope, and transcendence. The feeling that true love is about to occur hangs sweetly in the air. Like a Keats poem, it is a perfect state of suspension. The envisioned love is perfect, and hope and excitement come from the idea that love will play out according to this perfection. The bliss of anticipating something perfect is immense, "knowing" it's about to occur, focusing so much energy on anticipating it that you actually begin to feel it, and the feeling you get is pure joy, so how much greater then will the real thing be...? You can only happily imagine. But yet, strangely, what doesn't bring this perfection into actuality is what makes it perfect, for we know that seldom does anything occur perfectly in the real world. If it never actually plays out, then there's no risk of being disappointed, of having to compare the envisioned to the actual and say "oh no, no. This isn't how is was supposed to be at all." Some will say that it is much better to experience something than nothing, despite the fact that this something will be less than perfect. For now, however, I am content to stand along the shore, inhaling the sweet air and keeping myself in a somewhat agonizing, yet glorious state--never will I experience the perfection I want so much, but never will this perfection be disappointed either. And caught in this in-between state, I am at the brink of experiencing the highest of highs before reality sets things on a downward course. I am, therefore, nearly at the peak, in mathematical terms, the maximum. (Or, maybe, if any of this perfection does indeed exist, I am then at a great distance from this peak. So far though, I feel that it does not, not for me at least.) And perched from my (near) highest of highs, I can look around and smile, feeling that I'm as close to perfection as I ever may be. If the use of the word "perfection" has been confusing to you throughout this, my apologies. It is, of course, largely referring to true love and its various derivatives. I hope that you can find the person who makes what the blinking light represents real (love and hope for the future). And may you have more luck than the Gatsby. May you have more luck than me. Do remember me though, next time you stand alongside a lake shore. Maybe I will have, by that time, changed my state and changed my views.