i want to romanticize my life as much as possible.

i want to look forward to little things again. to having a playlist for walking home at dusk. to making coffee and not rushing through it. to sending texts that say “made me think of you.” to learning to be okay with the way people leave and sometimes still love you from far away.

i want to look forward to seeing the people i love become better versions of themselves. to the way friends hold space without needing words. to strangers who smile at me in passing, and somehow it’s enough, like the old man with the floppy hat who always waves at the corner cafe, even when i don’t say anything back. i want to see that one cousin finally nail that impossible violin piece, or seeing a friend organize their tiny bookshelf in a way that somehow makes them glow with pride.

i want to romanticize the ordinary as much as the extraordinary. i want to find comfort in listening to the hum of the fridge while i fold laundry, pausing to watch a ladybug crawl across the windowsill, and ​​hearing the crinkle of paper as i open a letter and catching the scent of someone’s perfume or pencil.

i just love when you see the last streak of pink in the sky after sunset, feeling the cool metal of a subway pole under my hand as the train rattles along, and letting my thoughts wander; noticing the way a friend’s laugh makes their whole body tilt slightly, or how their hair falls perfectly across one eye when they smile. what about the smell of rain on hot pavement after a sudden summer shower? it makes me remember that it’s the small things that can stop me in my tracks.

i want to savour moments, not just move through them.

i want to collect memories like treasures.

and love, love in its purest form. like when your best friend notices you’ve worn mismatched socks and laughs with you, not at you, and somehow it feels like they see all the little things that make you, you; or when someone sits beside you on a park bench and shares a bag of caramel popcorn. it includes romantic love and platonic.

someone holding your hand in the dark while you try to untangle a knot in a necklace, or leaving a note in your bag that says “good luck today” when they know you’ve been nervous. love in its purest form is noticing, appreciating, and caring without needing anything in return.

the odd little gestures matter because they show connection in a way that words sometimes can’t, and those are the kinds of things i want to fill my life with. those are the things i look forward to.