Little Joys.

12.05.18

I lit a new candle and played an old album by a half-melancholy band, and doing these small, tender things has done so much to lift my spirits. Sometimes I forget that I like the quiet - that I like the time alone, on my own in my room, with all my stray thoughts swirling through my head and then out with every breath I take, swimming in the scented air around me.

It smells warm and cozy and every time I leave my room and come back in, I’m greeted by a space that makes me think of soft, baked things and sitting in front of a crackling fireplace in a home sheltered from the winter cold. It makes me think of lumpy, oversized sweaters and easy satisfaction on a chilly night.

Time seems to be passing by quickly, and I’m starting to feel more and more desperate to do things and see people and make more memories to keep things from getting stale and old, and to keep me from having the regret of a life not truly lived. But in these moments of solitude, I feel like it’s okay to take some time to just breathe, and realize that these softer moments have value too - that I can be my own good company, and that there is a particular kind of intimacy in sipping a cup of instant coffee I make for myself and getting to know myself better.

I always talk about taking care of myself in little ways and not losing sight of the small joys of life that pile together to make things beautiful, but I always seem to forget that when I actually put these things into practice, I feel so whole, and so myself, and it’s such a good feeling on nights that get dark so quickly.

Sometimes it’s okay to withdraw from the world a little bit and spend some time in love with the idea of a softly burning candle, and some quiet music, and a cup of instant coffee next to a bed for one.