I Fail to Describe How Beautiful They Are

...I flipped through the pages of a book that I would never of rented. A book about your twenties and how most people do them wrong. If this was my conscious decision to rent it, I may think it was pretentious. However, I picked it up and read it. It brought me back to a moment a year ago. The snow was still crisp on the ground and the icicles hung like spears. The sun was still shy from the Earth and rested behind the clouds. The dead of winter laid upon me. The weekend nights still clung to drinks and late nights with friends. The mornings seemed unfathomable and terribly uncomfortable. Waking up at 8:00 for school seemed more like it was 5:00. I was living a life that I didn't want to change. I felt anxious about graduation and the changes that followed after. Although every time I saw him I had this lingering feeling that made the end seem less real. It wasn't an  overwhelming feeling or even breath taking but it was like the small drips from the icicles when they start to melt. The icicles are there, though they do not seem to be taken notice from anyone. Yet the water drips, they splash into the snow, and when the sun comes out they glisten in the rays. Days soon passed and so did the weeks, nothing happened with the lingering feeling. Life seemed to be moving and making an attempt to be exciting. I talked to others and got myself involved in the lives' of others. I coasted along with my friends and did the same thing over and over again. The repetition wasn't noticed until hindsight. My mind did not linger to his name.

Then I noticed him. He wore a black and simple v-neck. I saw him for the first time. I took an interest in who he was, wanting to figure out what he was about. He seemed cocky and a bit full of himself from were I was looking. Although I mistaken that for a raw form of self-confidence. As the snow melted and started to release the grass and flowers from captivity, I started to make myself revealed. There was no science to this just a clear motive. I wanted to be the smell of breakfast that wakes you from your sleep. When the coffee tastes better at 9:00 in the morning instead of at noon because you cannot resist the smell. I wanted to be like the sun that shines through the blinds gently. I wanted to be the glistening dew on the grass and leaves. My approach was to be settle but then once it was to be realized it would feel like a hug that needed to be embraced.

I left dull but frank text messages for him. They meant nothing and they were suppose to mean nothing. My ways were not to impress or flaunt myself but to reveal myself slowly like when a cat brushes themselves against your leg and you don't notice them until it tickles. However I wanted to take a risk. I was moving across the country it was a risk, maybe even a foolish risk. It wasn't a game. It was noticing the icicles were melting. I waited for a response with no expectations...

    I never write this way. I suppose it isn't like me to do so, I am not sure. This might be a writing style or a way to push myself into a different form of writing. When I write a blog my intentions aren't to ask for help or to show the world how "depressed" I am. My aim is to be honest and raw. It just so happens that my struggles are plastered to the wall of facebook, blogger.com, and my google+ account. But this is my choice and I'll do it over and over again. For whomever my audience is I tell you this, I'm ok. I am fine. I am living. I am doing life. I am experiencing the life I was given. My blogs might be tainted with struggles or might seem like a desperate cry for help but what would happen if you posted your daily struggles publicly?
This past Monday I got in a minor car accident and busted one of my headlights. I stressed out my back from it. And now I have to figure out how to fix and pay for it. For the last few weeks I have come to the conclusion that I don't like my job. It is so med focused that I kind of can't stand it. I wanted to write about that. Yet, I didn't want to seem like I was complaining or that I'm still in this shitty spot of figuring out adulthood.

I discovered that life in it's self is a struggle. If I happen to be the one to write about the struggles then so be it. I will be the one to do that. Sometimes at the end of the day there is no resolution but you just forget that it was a crappy day and move on to the next thing. This week a lot of things happened that I didn't like very much because it made other things very difficult. Yet, some awesome things happened. I needed extra money this month. My cousin contacted me without knowing my week was not so good and that I needed the extra money she asked if I could babysit. My boyfriend spent his entire day off with me, without me asking. It was the day after the minor accident. Things like that make me feel special. Those are some moments I live for. The small great moments make me see the big hard moments smaller. I will continue to write about what I write and maybe some day I will be raw with my big great moments. Though right now I am not willing to publicly air that as weird as that may sound. Those moments mean more to me than the hard moments. I do not cherish the hardships. I cherish the beautiful moments that I fail to describe how beautiful they are.