Every one of us, at one point or another, has felt like a bug splattered on the windshield of life. Sometimes, the prospect of another day is just too much. Often, at around 6:00 AM, not a particularly early time, I find myself wondering what I would really be missing out on by simply rolling back in to the cocoon of my bed and staying there until noon. While my days may seem blurred and monotonous, there is always something to look for, some unique sight that makes waking up worth while. When I was younger, these highlights were much easier to come by. An oddly colored bug on the sidewalk or someone walking a cute dog was enough to make my day. But of course, as I grew older, I became harder to please. I slowly stopped appreciating the iridescent insect or the Chihuahua with the bark of a Great Dane. As I advanced in school, stress started to take over. Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning too fast and maybe it would just be easier to allow it to hurl me off. Then that I realized I should relearn to appreciate the small things. I try to recognize little joys in the world: on the bus to school, as I gaze out of a classroom window. I can stumble upon something every day. One day it will be a little girl walking with her mother and carrying the same pink lunch box I used to have. Another day, it will be something as simple as a new lawn ornament in the yard of a stranger. The next day, I might notice a new flowerbed, bursting through the dull backdrop of my morning bus ride. I often feel like an insignificant blip on the universal radar, however, at the same time, the smallest things can make my corner of the universe a little bit brighter. So whenever you feel like a squirrel about to be dragged under the tires of the world, look around. Notice something you wouldn’t normally think twice about. Anything can be beautiful. The 6 AM sun lines every cloud with a silver thread. I believe that good things come in small packages, and every one of the tiny gifts I find makes my miniscule radar blip a tiny bit bigger.
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