stress the little things

by Scout Lynch Second Place Poetry

I stress the little things. Shards of glass spreading across the floor or an ever growing puddle of red wine on the couch make me feel as though the world is going to end.

If plans change, so do I, but not for the better. It takes a half an hour of reassurance for me to understand that life will carry on and that in a week, this won’t even matter. The other day when my partner and I went to the Asian market, he watched me squeal with excitement over the thai basil that I found when I slid open the glass door to the produce refrigerator. “God, I wish I could feel the happiness that you do,” he said, admiring my joy.

This isn’t the first time he’s said this. He’s not the first person I’ve heard this from.

The delight I gain from the most mundane things fuels me through the roughest of days.

I have always stressed the little things but, God, do I howl at the moon for the little things too.

The passion I hold in this life is unmatched to any other.

My mother says I am a lot.

My coworker says I have big reactions. My partner says I am everything.

My cat runs away because he gets overwhelmed.

I stress the little things.

I’m just a little thing.

I feel things bigger than you.

Fall Is Always on My Mind

by Kiersten Jones Second Place Photography