Silver necklaces, two hoop earrings with a diamond on top. Dirty white converse accompanied by sweatshirts paired with matching leggings or sweatpants. I love comfort. Jeans do not provide me with comfort. My long almond shaped nails always painted the same color as the season always bring me joy. At a young age I learned that a little extra time to add the tiniest things can make all the difference. From straightening or curling your hair based on the weather or your outfit, to a tiny ring on your finger. The feeling of putting the final touches on a face of makeup feels like a cool breeze on a summer day.

My family doesn't seem to agree. My brother has the same hairstyle every day. Everyday he pulls his long, black, slippery hair into a ponytail. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear anything but black jeans and a heavy metal band t-shirt. He says he doesn't want to try to switch it up because it’s “easy and quick”. I can’t argue with him there.

My mothers closet looks like a mall. It overflows with designer clothing of all shapes and colors. The floor is hidden by high heels and boots. Her dresser drawer filled with gold jewelry sparkles like a sky full of stars. All of her clothes and jewelry have one thing in common. Dust. Dust covers it all. All her dresses and expensive blouses I grew up with have not been touched in years. Sometimes I wonder if they get jealous of her black jeans, t-shirts, and sketcher tennis shoes that get worn every day. “I don’t have the time or energy for all that stuff” is her only excuse. But when she wraps me in her warm embrace the smell of her warm rich perfume takes me back to the same sent filling my nose while getting carried to bed.