i am trying so hard to fall in love with life.
with dewdrops and frost on trees. wild little animals living their wild little lives. i want to accept its imperfections. to reach the point where i can accept that world is unimaginably large, and we are all individuals with our own lives, thoughts, and actions. we all breathe. we all sleep. we post on social media, look at others, and wonder how accurate it is to them and their lives. i want to accept that i will never be in someone else's mind, listening in on every fleeting thought. i want to accept that some people are just mean. they exist on this earth full of misery & dissatisfaction with their own lives. reckless. maybe they're just bored. lonely. who knows? who cares? i want to be able to think "who cares?" and truly believe it.
i want to fall in love with the soft light of the evening, spilling lazily across counters and walls. i want to enjoy early mornings and explore abandoned buildings, making up scenarios that could have taken place there years before. i want to find happiness in the tiniest things. old bookstores, pharmacies in the late hours, hints of smiles on the subway from a collectively eavesdropped joke.
we may all be specks compared to the universe, but i want to believe that i can create my own meaning to life. work, bills, politics. they are so minuscule when it comes down to it all. life isn't just some aesthetic, i know. there will be days that make it seem not worth living the rest of mine, but i want to want to push through it. if i decide to grow old, i don't want any regrets. only nostalgia. not what could have been, but what was.