Though I don’t typically adjudge myself superstitious, the mythical inclination is on occasion oddly spirited by effervescence, a contradiction which I can only relate to some broader vermin in one’s life. It’s almost a chastisement reminiscent of religious training. To be blunt, the chilling illusion of despondency is by peculiar irrationality never far removed from affecting moments of cheerfulness. Nonetheless I resist the putative elevation of hesitancy and so-called worldliness to contaminate a perfectly desirable circumstance.