Raspberry Iced M

I don’t have main character energy in a cinematic sense. I can’t even open a can of biscuits, so I can’t imagine looking cool walking away from an explosion. There’s no slow motion walk. No flawless outfits. No dramatic “score” swelling behind me.

And to be clear, I am only an underdog in ways I create for myself, by ways of insecurity, improper time management, and a long list of shortcomings I am slowly processing day by day.

My “main character energy” is quieter. Observational. Occasionally inconvenient.

1. I mentally narrate my life during every day, mundane tasks. Vacuuming the floor becomes a moment of reflection. Folding laundry feels symbolic for reasons I cannot always explain. I said to someone this morning, “I never feel like I’m doing enough. I always feel like I’m behind the 8 ball.” And I know now that feelings are facts (thank you, Christy the Therapist), but the feeling has to pass, nonetheless.
2. I assume small moments are teaching me something. Losing my keys must mean I need to become more organized. An awkward pause is my internal nightmare. A missed turn might have saved me from having an accident. The “signs” are not always bad, but to say I overthink even the small things is absolutely accurate.
3. I pause before responding like I’m choosing a line that defines me. A returned text as simple as, “Sounds good!” has context. After living in fear of being misrepresented or incorrectly perceived, I tiptoe over every word I say at times. I guess it’s a good thing that my life is quiet these days. I prefer that over constant scrutiny.
4. I notice aesthetic details no one asked me to notice. Lighting. Music playing faintly in the background of a store or restaurant. The emotional “tone” of a room. I rarely comment on it. But I notice.
5. I emotionally soundtrack normal experiences. Night rides in the rain = Janet Jackson. A warm spring day = pop. Tears in my pillow at night = Hillsong. Bubble baths = acoustic covers of 00s hits. There is absolutely no reason for this.
6. I treat minor inconveniences like plot devices. Those things don’t happen to me. They happened for character development.
7. I reflect deeply instead of reacting quickly. This is new. And it’s not because I’m wise. It’s because I’m rehearsing my inner monologue.
8. I romanticize resetting my life at incredibly impractical times. Ever wake up on a Thursday and decide you need to redecorate your bedroom? Ever throw away half of your wardrobe because your graphic tees “just aren’t funny enough?” Ever spend $90 on items to do a craft project for something listed for $50 on Etsy? No? Just me? K thanks.
9. I think about “who I am becoming” while doing objectively nothing. Sitting. Scrolling. Becoming.
10. I feel like everything would make sense if someone else were watching. Nothing exciting is happening. Not technically. But it feels important anyway.

This is not confidence.
It’s not cool.
It’s barely even noticeable.

But it is presence.
Awareness.
Just me – quietly starring in my own life, with no audience, no arc, and no special effects.

And if you knew me 6 months ago, and how often I let someone else decided who I needed to be to be “enough,” you’d note progress.

Five stars.