I used to tell everybody that they should find one beautiful thing. If you can think of one beautiful thing no matter how small or insignificant you always had something to fight for. Even if it was a shiny rock on the ground. I’m running out of beautiful things. It’s been weeks since I could force myself to do anything. The dishes are stacking all around me. The trash is overflowing onto a pile on the ground and my room is a mess; my house is a mess. 

Everywhere I look something needs cleaned. My living room, bathroom, the cats keep getting sick and the amount of laundry I have to do is enough to make a cactus cry. I walked into my kitchen and I saw my dishwasher had leaked all over my kitchen floor. The water is everywhere. I couldn’t do anything but collapse in a corner and cry. I have no more beautiful things and I don’t know what to do. 

These tasks that plague my thoughts are so easy. Wash dishes, take out the trash, clean up after cats, pick up around the house, do the laundry. Each one simple. Quick. But in my mind their unsurpassable mountains. I don’t know why. I don’t know what to do. On the cold ground of my floor, in the darkest corner of my house I don’t see anything beautiful to fight for.