In dark bars with modest fires, John talks of love and whether one can have it despite the multiplicity of self. Believe it, John! I say, though I do not yet. We stuff ourselves into the photo booth, using our faces to elaborate on the moment as though time has already truncated it. I cannot answer John’s question, and turn up missing from the prints.

Science will say that the peak-end rule determines human happiness. It is the remembering self who tyrannizes the experiencing one. The latter remains egoless, and experiences pleasure as such. There is John across the table, holding onto a glass. Here am I, knowing John because I have known him before. All night we accomplish nothing. It is excusable. In perpetual nostalgia, we bring ourselves back to life.

(via somegreatbellysache)

(i love my friend jessie a lot.)