Beauty in the mundane

18 years, spent the larger chunk of these wailing about clinging on to life. Struggling with making friends or talking to people in general for that matter, simply existing waiting for life to pass by while i sat and watched the fleeting of time with no remorse or reason. 

They say your teens are the peak of you're life, I'm almost done with them and all I feel is empty. I can't help it feel as though I never lived through any of it, overtaken by anxiety and loneliness there was nothing that mattered to me, my existence driven with fear of being no one. I wanted someone to care...know,  that I was who I was, and that was ok, I wanted to be found, yet nothing felt more attractive than the idea of disappearing so completely that no one, not even I could remember who I was, so called "freedom of oblivion". 

In the quiet aftermath I stumbled upon an unexpected sanctuary within the folds of the everyday. The mundane, once disregarded, now shimmered with newfound significance. The gentle cadence of raindrops on my window became a therapeutic lullaby, and the warmth of sunlight streaming through leaves transformed into a healing touch. In the simplicity of life's routine, I unearthed a reservoir of tranquility. Each ordinary moment, previously overshadowed by worries, emerged as a source of subtle beauty. It was in these seemingly unremarkable fragments of existence that I found solace, a balm for the wounds of my tumultuous mind. The struggle had not disappeared entirely, but now, amid the mundane, I discovered a resilient beauty, a reminder that even in the ordinary, there lied a profound and healing grace.