My good moments, are quite similar to my bad ones, in the sense that I can see myself while they happen. I can set both of them up clearly and perfectly, but the major difference is how they make me feel.
A good moment is Golden Hour on top of a hill. The view isn’t clear, but what’s clear nowadays anyway? It’s a goodbye, but not a sad one. You let go from a hug and you look up and you freeze. The person you just stopped hugging has the biggest and best smile on their face, the kind that makes you not even care where it came from, just that you want to see it again and again. The sunset light is shining perfectly behind their head, with the focus perfectly on them. You don’t know what to say, nor what to do. The scene could pause and a camera could pan away and capture it forever and it would still tickle your toes and melt your heart if you saw it again. And when it’s over and you have to slowly step back into reality and recall where you are, the happy feeling still sticks with you, refusing to fade for as long as you have that good moment.
The biggest difference is that with bad moments, the words are the ones that carry the situation. Good moments hold their own weight in the kind of silence where you can hear absolutely everything, while hearing nothing at all.