And so I sat there, pretending to know everything that’s going around, pretending that I’m in control, indulging in the lies of perfection that I found pretty and assuring.
Until I suddenly started actually seeing. Seeing the stains of my old backpack, the stack of clothes still left to give away, the dirty make-up and the finger-smudged mirror, the nodded earphones thrown on my scratched desk along my half-drank tea and my unread notes of previous week’s ideas.
I still have baby hairs, and no matter how perfectly tight I try to fit them into my high ponytail, they’re still what they are: pure, simple and LOTS of baby hairs.
I loved the mess I saw that morning, I took a photo of it, I left it just like that the whole day. And I spent that whole day not thinking about plans or conclusions or decisions, doubts, uncertainties or tasks.
I spent it living, and loving the mess that comes with it.
And I simply thought it would be nice to share it with you
’cause in the end, I think we’re all just trying our best.