Anti-Complaints and Too-Large Self-Portraits

I am feeling very light tonight. It's a deceptive feeling. The sensation of lightness is just an opposition to heft.
Is that the cynic talking, the expectation that the lightness foreshadows depth?

Did you see how, while speed-typing, I accidentally made synonyms out of 'lightness' and 'shallowness'?
My biggest fear is that the lightness is not present in what's below the outer layer of my metaphysical body.

Tonight I fear that this lightness is of my body, not within it. Made by it. A product. Not what follows the equal sign.
(Does an equal sign follow the body?)

That's not my fear. My fear is less palatable than that, less distinguished. It's probably common, un-philosphical.

And yet, here it comes again, as I gaze at the white wall of this blog and continue my soliloquy: lightness, laughter.
Shallowness that makes me feel good. Not like a good person.
Instead, as if I've just jumped off a building, but, as my body fights to stay afloat, the ground keeps getting further away.

Better than dumb luck. Less decisive than luck, or love for that matter.