I'm learning to laugh at myself. Absolutely frightening. To know that things are not elegant and impressive all the time when it's precisely the absence of that feeling that can make it very difficult. Delightful things are small and momentary; you have to suck it all in right then and there. And they're contingent: one calming look you get in that one moment when you need it, meeting a person when being alone is a tempting and dangerous thing. A similar meeting or look in different circumstances mean something else, perhaps nothing at all.
So you wonder if there's nothing to be figured out, something else to be found out because such a small offer is something of an insult - and to be content with that?
Then sometimes you feel that even contemplating it is asking for too much - when the delight, however small and fleeting, is relieving.
The average feeling hovers somewhere between those.