I’ve come to realize that there are many things that inspire me, but it is mainly the little, tiny blips in time that make me want to write the most.
The look on their face as they take their first sip of freshly prepared coffee, or the smile that dances across her mouth as she watches her little boy stumble across the floor.
It is moments like these that make me grateful that I am still here, still breathing, still taking things as they come, one day at a time.
I love talking to people, and even though I have anxiety that wells up in me like a giant helium balloon, I’ve found a way to slowly let the air out without popping, and face my fears. I don’t want to be held back from an infinite number of experiences that have yet to happen because of my own limitations. I want to bypass them all and become the person I perceive myself as being in my head.
I want to read and write and make horrible art. I know I’m not artistically gifted, but there is something so beautiful about knowing that whatever is right in front of you, that you created it, and nothing can ever be exactly the same as it. That goes for a lot of things - art, writing, food, a laugh, just being your own person. There is nothing that can ever compare to the uniqueness that is you and your life. You bring an unprecedented aura with you wherever you go, and people pick up on that. In the grand scheme of things, sure, we may be like ants scurrying from place to place. But if we hold a magnifying glass up to one section of the ant hill, there are lives, stories, and memories special to each and every one of us.
This is why I am grateful. Even on the days I wish I could be elsewhere, sometimes being rocked back into my boots by the little, genuine seconds in life is all it takes to remind me why I’m happy that things are going exactly the way that they are.
