When You Lose Sight of Gratitude.

A year and a half - that's how long ago the rest of my life started. The plan was to cleanse myself of Las Cruces, of the country bars and house parties and empty strip malls and soul-sucking pale landscape.

The day I left, I regained feeling in my body. Happy tears in my eyes. Butterflies in my stomach at the absolute uncertainty of adult life and all of its opportunities. I know how dramatic it sounds, don't worry. But Cruces tore me down and the day I was out was one of the best days of my life. I regained a sense of gratitude for this vast world and the people and places it houses. And here I am, a small fragment of this world, somehow making it work in this crazy big city - and for a second, I forget how lucky I am. 

For a second, the backlit palm trees and vibrant streets lose their charm. My support system - my loving better half, my continuously encouraging family - mean nothing as I focus on the one thing not going right in my life among 1,000,000 positives.

Not today, Satan! Today I bask in the sunshine and slap on some color and I bite the heck back. 

Because life's too short to sweat the small stuff. 

Because I promised myself I'd never be a passive spectator. 

Photos by Aidan Bradbury-Aranda

earrings: gifted

sunglasses: Warby Parker

dress: Charlotte Russe

slip-ons: Madden Girl

bag: Rebecca Minkoff

Thanks for reading/skimming/stalking.