Each time I inhale,
I imagine a countless number of atoms being collected, each containing their own universe within,
being dispersed into the cold Chicago air and dissolving into nothingness.
I imagine that my gut bacteria are neighboring countries who are decades behind in diplomacy and communication.
I imagine that my neck vertebrae are like a worn iPhone cord, with cables starting to be exposed.
I imagine my brain sprinting every time I speak, shooting electricity into the neurons that will shape my lips correctly.
I try to think of the colors that don't exist and what they would look like if I could see them. How I could even begin describing it to someone who is blind.
Then my mind cycles back to the mundane. Food. Work. Relationship. Wondering how anyone would gather the energy to maintain happiness while constantly having to eat, work, learn, love, and play.
These mental images are just constantly running queries. Like when I Google something that I already Googled seven months ago, but just wanna make sure that what I know stays the same in an ever-changing world. Makes no fucking sense to me.
I think to enable the greatest change within yourself, you have to find love for yourself.
But our brain does mass batch operations. It will hit you with your worst regrets, your most painful memories, and the reminders that you are worthless.
Loving ourselves is hard. Pretending is easier. I wish I could find validation in social media like I used to, or like a lot of others do.
Even fake validation would be better than acknowledging that you don't exist.
All these memories from years ago, with people I no longer even speak to. Is that what adulthood is?
Past year 18, we just start slipping away from our innocence and only begin to see the uphill journey to the destination?
My Facebook gets 1 notification a day. In high school, it was 10 or more.
But my love of writing returned. Ever so gradually.
I have to find me or I'll never change.