Every morning I follow a certain routine, an inﬁnite amount of actions that have taken place over an inﬁnite amount of days. My alarm clock blares. I press “snooze” well over half a dozen times. Finally, thereʼs the dragging myself out of bed. Brush my teeth groggily and jump in the shower (if Iʼm really late I can do these at the same time).
However, itʼs not until Iʼm picking out my outﬁt, when I look up at the wispy lettering of the wall decal above my closet that my day really begins. “Be your own kind of beautiful,” it says.
Can you tell me that that isnʼt beautiful?