I often spent my darkest times, searching for the slightest cracks in the walls in hopes to find some form of light. My most grateful trick I forged into my own personality was to look into the future, not in some grand, spectacular way where life becomes a paradise with all my troubles vanish. It was the simple idea of appreciating the small realistic outcomes in the future. For me, it was my very own little apartment, filled with furniture I picked out and paid for myself. It’s my very own couch that remembers me the second I collapse onto it, my cheap, but good enough, TV set up in front of me. It’s the colours of the walls, the layout of my kitchen, the placement of my plants, and the sheets on my bed that I chose myself, that in some way resembles a small part of me. This tiny aspect of my future creates a beautiful sense of individualism, this future me where I am no longer reliant on others around me.
It’s a future I look forward to.