Absolutely not. I don’t know how you capture it. That feeling in your chest when your heart is full to capacity, the peaceful state of a perfectly content brain or the tingly radiation of feet insisting on inching closer to something striking. You can’t bottle the level of joy found in a starry night on the beach or the level of familiarity found in a perfectly-timed and all-knowing glance. It is fingertips lightly scratching your back, floating on waves together and pedaling aimlessly. It is hot and fresh out the kitchen, oblivious stares from little girls and the smallest side salad you ever saw. How could you possibly summarize the heat lightning or the spontaneity behind a choreographed dance or the desires of infancy. The clinking of glasses, the observing of strangers, the diving into waves. The places you roll out of bed for with the friends you think out loud with.
I couldn’t tell you how to find yourself there–the ingredients needed or the route taken. I wish I could give some steps to acquiring it. The only thing I know to tell you is that you can’t encapsulate it. Because whether it’s a literal snapshot of a moment or an attempt at an all-encompassing string of words down the line, you’ll never quite feel like you’re doing it justice.
But I refuse to believe there’s any shame in trying.