And right now everything is alright. I had a shitty day but the crickets are chirping, the candles are burning, I just did a facial, I painted my nails, I have a date scheduled tomorrow.
Yes, my car was egged twice in two weeks. Yes, I've been feel so physically ill from anxiety that I have been struggling to make it through each day. But I cleaned off the egg. I scheduled a therapist appointment. And last night I just sprawled out on a North Philly sidewalk with chips and dip at my side. A friendly homeless man was hungry so I shared chips with him. He was grateful and came by a little later to say hi again.
I don't know. It's perspective, they tell me. Perspective. Okay. So where do I see the beautty? In my roommate's sister's new little baby girl. In the music blaring from the block party on the street parallel to ours. In my date tomorrow, where I will wear red lipstick and smile as wide as I can, as I drink down my beer in a fancy glass and wonder if he likes the smell of my perfume.
I see the beauty in my dad's eyes when he sees me. I see the beauty in my mom's morning texts, my sister checking up on me, my grandmother getting excited to gossip with me. I see it in my pedicured feet as they dangle off the bed while I read a novel try to figure out life.
There are beautiful things, there are. It's just still hard. Still so fucking hard. And you know what, life will get harder. I love my parents and one day they aren't going to be there anymore, unless I'm lucky enough to die before them (although I'm not sure if I'd be okay with them having to go through that pain). But I don't know, Life was hard in high school. Very hard. I had a good childhood but at the same time, it wasn't normal in any way, shape, or form. When I got older I thought to myself, "those were the hardest years."
No, not at all. I clearly hadn't had my heart broken yet when I said that.
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