Find the Beauty in Simple things.

The cold fall wind hit my bare shoulders softly, and sent a shiver down my spine. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes tight. Why was I pretending that this was the last night i'd feel this? There will be many more nights like these, won't there? I stared out into the night from off my roof top, the lake shimmering against the moonlight, the faint waves making soothing sounds. I loved the way the palm trees would slowly flutter in the breeze, calming my anxious body. I know this sounds cliche, but my surroundings were all I wanted right now. I didn't want to care about tomorrow, about yesterday, or the day before that. Right now is what i want, no matter how long that lasts. I took a heavy drag from my cigarette, the smoke in my lungs warming me completely. I sat there, on my roof top, in the cool fall whether, breathing, living, surviving.

My name is Desiree. My escape is my room. It feels more mine than any other physical place. It's painted dark brown, and decorated with old fashioned things. Old, sturdy furniture, yet absolutely beautiful at the same time. How most things in this world should be. I could name every stain, crack, broken item in this room, my room, and have every detail to the story of how it happened. I guess you could say it's the way i am. There's an old photograph in my room, laying in a drawer, where i've keep it safe. It's of my brother, bayley. Nobody has ever seen it but my mother and me. He was four years old in that picture, and he's wearing a cowboy costume for halloween. My mother asked me why i wanted it so badly, and i had told her it was memories that should never be forgotten. Every picture tells a story, even when it's just black and white. But of course, i'm a photographer. My room is strung with pictures i've taken, or memories i've made. I think they're sentimental, in a way, because my pictures aren't perfect, no way. But they're real, and i was the person behind the lense, that saw it's setting as what it truly means. Have you ever looked at a picture, maybe even studied it for some time? That picture could have reminded you of a memory, good or bad, your picture or not, it's your memory. Someone else could have looked at that picture and and had a memory themselves. Life is endless, with so many memories, time, truths, lies, all of it. Although this world can be cold and heartless, it can also be the warmest, most breathtaking place you'll ever see. And even though i over think things sometimes, and i'm not always the best in judgement, i know i'm hear for a purpose, and that purpose is real, living inside me, and i will let that out, when i need to be heard.

Confess your confessions, they tell me. But what is that, really? telling your story, admitting to your faults, pointing out your sin. past being past, we're completely human, we make mistakes, we make bad choices. the flaws about me somewhat keep me comfort. My life is a never ending string of opportunities and failures. One door closes, two doors open. Find the will power to find yourself and accept whoever that is, and the courage to accept the others around you as themselves. "The best day of your short life, is every single day." My grandmother told me that, one day, when i told her i never wanted to grow old. The inspirations you need to help you keep going are all around you, all you have to do is find beauty in the simple things, and keep your eyes wide open.





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