Like water in cupped hands.

There are those thoughts, thoughts and feelings, which one longs to hold onto. And yet in the moment you have the idea to grab hold of the feeling going through you, the thought going past, it starts to dissolve and you clutch madly at nothing until whatever it was has completely disappeared. That's okay, they'll come back one day when you least expect it, within you somewhere but not consciously reachable.

Then there are those thoughts, thoughts and feelings, which one wishes will never return. And yet even at your most conscious moment as to how you feel, what you think, not one part of it will dissolve. You wonder how this can be, when all the best things last so briefly and this irritating little bugger of a thought won't leave you alone. It has such a loud voice, such an anchor to every waking moment.

Bad thoughts have become like a bad habit for me. Easier to ignore, easier to forget but still ready to creep up in my moments alone, as if my mind remembers that those are the times when those thoughts were most potent. When I was most vulnerable. I just think it's silly now, now that I feel happier, calmer, better. When I think those bad thoughts I can recognise them as not real, eventually, but it feels like I've just bitten my nails for the sake of a past nervous tick which no longer serves a purpose. It is as if ghosts of bad thoughts and bad feelings reside in me going through their old routines, running out their inevitable course despite the fact that most of the time I'm not listening.

I guess it's slightly sad that the good feelings, once realised, slip away like water in cupped hands. But then you wouldn't know, would you? If the bad ones left no mark, no measure for how bloody brilliant things can be. I suppose I should just stop trying to cling so hard onto it all, but I am getting better at that.