I just read another poem by e. e. cummings, and I really connected with it... "You Are Tired (I Think)." I'm not even sure if I think it was particularly remarkable. But, near the end of it, I had to brace myself for the chills I knew were coming. I had to actually close my eyes and recover from it. Sometimes, things seem so fucking beautiful and I wonder why I'm ever sad; too bad that's the most fleeting feeling I'm capable of.