The Trouble With Tomorrow

 

The Trouble With Tomorrow

I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of my life waiting for the “right” moment.
The right time to start.
The right time to be happy.
The right time to finally feel like I’ve arrived somewhere.

And in the process, I’ve missed a lot of now.

It’s strange — we treat the present like a hallway.
Something we just walk through on our way to something better.
We’re always thinking, “When I get there… then I’ll breathe, then I’ll live.”
But “there” keeps moving. It never stays still long enough to catch.

The truth? There’s no there. There’s only here.

I’ve started noticing the small things more — not because I suddenly became some Zen master, but because I’m tired of missing my own life.
The way sunlight sneaks through the curtains and paints the wall in soft gold.
The smell of bread from the bakery down the street.
The fact that I can still call my best friend at midnight and they’ll pick up, no questions asked.

These things are tiny. They’re easy to overlook.
But one day, they won’t be there. And I don’t want to realize their value in hindsight.

Living in the present isn’t about ignoring the past or pretending the future doesn’t matter.
It’s about refusing to let “what’s next” rob you of “what’s now.”
It’s about holding your coffee cup with both hands, actually tasting the sip, and not scrolling while you do it.
It’s about listening to someone’s laugh and letting it soak into you instead of thinking about what you’re going to say next.

Because maybe this is it.
Not the practice run.
Not the waiting room.
This. Right here.

And I don’t want to miss it anymore.

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