I spend my evenings researching people's stories.
I spend each day trying to make so many other people of so many different countries lives potentially better, that sometimes I forget to think about me and my life.
A song just reminded me, unwillingly, to consider myself too.
"We're just holding on to nothing
To see how long nothing lasts...
There's one road to the morning
There's one road to the truth
There's one road back to civilization
But there's no road back to you."
Sigh.
It's gloomy out. I'm a bit sad, I must admit. I wish it were warmer out. I wish I had a few more things in order. I wish I felt more of a spark. I changed everything, and I love it but I guess I miss little thrills. Like forgetting you lit a candle in a room and going in and realizing how nice the room smells.
Or having a note from someone slipped under your door, so when you wake up in the morning, you have a message.
Or having a delicious cup of coffee brought to you when you don't expect it.
Or someone taking a nice photo of you by surprise.
Or discovering a really nice new song.
Or completing a project you've had on the go for awhile.
Or getting something new, no matter how big or small, and smiling at how fitting it is in its new surroundings.
Or finding an old pair of jeans that still fit.
Maybe I'm too romantic. Not just in the love sense, but in the sense of wanting lovely things. I romanticize the future where I see days full of sunshine and energy and smiles - genuine smiles. I see chasing a significant other or kids or nieces or nephews around a kitchen table. I imagine painting a room and having a party while doing it. I imagine being older and still going to the playground to swing on swings.
Even on the days without the sun, I see warm cups of coffee and herbal tea, looking out a beautiful bay window outside. I can hear the sound of cars splashing through puddles. Smelling the earth after a heavy rainfall. I imagine my head falling onto something - a comfortable shoulder, a cozy pillow. I imagine warm slippers and early mornings and good novels and better music.
The funny thing is though, is that I'm not afraid to approach that future now (with some obvious adjustments). I want to have long, energetic days. Satisfying days. I want scrabble dates and glasses of wine and long conversations over cups of coffee and trying experimental cuisine in the kitchen.
I know there's hardship - heck, I spend all my days, in some way or another, focusing on just those hardships: personal and international.
I feel like feeling beautiful. But I don't.
Maybe I should exchange all my clothes for new ones.
Or get a new haircut.
I wish I were more creative. I wish I could change some things, take some things back, do things I never did. Anyone who says it's possible to live without regrets has never used their imagination. They almost certainly have no sense of trial and error. This just stopped making sense.
How do you
blah.
I'd apologize for the post, but reading is a voluntary thing.
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