it seems like a routine and a healthy one, but we are a mirage. having the permanence of only a temporal moment, we are relatively instantaneous in emotional eternity. it will cease, but not yet. we are creatures of habit. our days, that are now enmeshed, have never been before, and so they will become unmeshed in the way that dreams fade to the air of sunshine reaching beneath our newly opened eyelids in the morning. ephemeral in time but everlasting in the edges of emotional memory that linger like the scent of your favorite vice left by another in your unknowing jacket.