THAT SHIP SAILED

Time flies… and not always in a good way. It slips through our fingers in a way that makes you question if the moments of your past were even real… or were they just fragments of dreams? You find yourself stuck in memories, revisiting times when you complained, unaware that those were some of the best days of your life… or were they? Can it get better than that? You grow up, and days that once felt like months and months like years now vanish in a snap. Time seems to move faster, maybe because we’re years beyond decades now. Still, even as time rushes forward, maybe… just maybe, the future can still be beautiful.

You remember being a free spirit, living in the moment, doing things simply because you could. Taking chances because you believed you had all the time in the world. But time has a way of revealing itself… of slowing down just enough to show you how far you've come and how much you've changed. You begin to realize your past now stretches longer than the future ahead. And with that realization, questions come rushing in — were those choices you made truly yours… or were you just following a path laid out by someone else?

You start questioning your entire being, like this life is borrowed… like we’re all just living on borrowed time. You become more cautious, more calculating. You take fewer risks because you’ve learned to value time in a way you didn’t before. You understand now that long life isn’t promised — it’s a gift, and not everyone receives it.

People begin to question your path… and maybe you feel judged. But deep down, the harshest judgment comes from within. You carry your doubts. The “what ifs” get louder — what if I had done things differently? And all you can do is imagine. Because time doesn’t wait, and you know you can’t afford another regret. You no longer have time for more “what ifs.” Everything becomes a now-or-never situation.

You don’t jump the way you used to. Not by faith. Not anymore. Because you’ve leapt before… and you know how that turned out. Now, you only move when you’re sure. Not out of fear, but because you’ve learned. Because experience teaches you what time never warned you about.

That ship sailed. And it’s not coming back.

You start to see the consequences of your choices. The life you could have had stands beside the one you do… and you feel the weight of that. But you also begin to understand something deeper. Letting go is hard, but it’s necessary. Making peace with your decisions is the only thing that gives you sanity. Acceptance becomes your anchor — not because you gave up, but because you chose to survive.

Because that’s all it was — a “what if.”

That ship sailed, and now it’s time to move forward. To stop staring at the water hoping for a return that will never come. It’s time to make new plans, chart new paths, and write new beginnings. To trust again… even if cautiously. To try again… even if differently.

The future waits. And maybe, just maybe, it can still be beautiful.

 

A SEASON FOR EVERYTHING

 

Life comes to us in seasons.

Not the neat, predictable kind like when summer softly hands over to autumn or when winter eventually warms into spring. No, the real seasons of life come unannounced. Some slip in quietly, others arrive with thunder. They do not follow calendars or cues. They do not ask for permission. And often, they do not make sense.

You may find yourself in a season of grief while laughter still lingers in the corners of your room. You might be mourning one thing and celebrating another. It is confusing, yes, but it is real. That is the thing no one says out loud — emotional seasons rarely travel alone. They blur together like colors on a wet canvas, never staying within the lines.

There is a time to cry, a time to pause and wait, a time to prepare in silence — the kind of preparation that happens in your spirit, the one that grows in secret while no one is watching. There are seasons made for quiet prayers and faith that holds you up when you feel like falling. Then there are the lighter days, seasons that shimmer with joy, with laughter so full it fills the room, and with love so true it makes your heart dance without music.

Sometimes, there is peace — not loud, not dazzling, but deep and gentle. The kind that sits with you like an old friend and reminds you that comfort is also a blessing.

But the heavier seasons come too. The ones of pain. The ones of jealousy and longing and heartbreak. Seasons that sit in your chest and refuse to leave when asked. And yet somehow, even in these, there is something to hold.

Because life does not sort these seasons in straight lines. You may laugh while your heart aches. You may feel love and resentment all at once. That is not contradiction — that is how we survive. That is how the mind protects itself. That is how the soul grows.

There are days I wish I could bottle the good moments. Freeze them. Keep them on a shelf and visit them when the world feels too heavy. But life does not give us that power. We do not get to choose which moments stay and which ones slip through our fingers like sand.

Still, we remember. We carry our joy like a lantern when sorrow comes calling again. We gather our pain and turn it into wisdom, into warning signs, into prayers we whisper for others walking a road we know too well. That is what growth looks like — quiet, steady, often unnoticed, but always real.

We do not love only once. We love again and again. Because the heart was made to hold many. And in loving, in remembering, we return to the seasons that shaped us. We step into them once more, even if just for a moment.

And maybe that is the most beautiful thing — not the seasons themselves, but the way we carry them. The way they live within us, even long after they’ve passed.

Seasons will always come. Sometimes softly, like a breeze, and sometimes with winds strong enough to shake the soul. But they will come. And through them all, we will feel, we will learn, we will grow. And that, that is what makes it all worth it.

DARK THOUGHTS WONDER

 

The mind of an artist… wanders.
It gets loud sometimes and quiet at others, but it always battles.
I find myself constantly overthinking, imagining everything, both the beautiful and the bleak.
Sadly, my thoughts often lean toward the worst-case scenarios.
It’s strange how darkness has a way of creeping in, even when we crave the light.

Isn’t it something… how people barely notice you when you’re alive but will fill up a room when you’re gone?
They’ll cry, speak sweetly, and reminisce about your best qualities.
Yet the crowd is smaller on your happiest days, like your wedding.
Sometimes filled with envy, silent judgment, or obligation.
And it makes me wonder — why does sorrow unite us more than celebration?

It’s funny how we romanticize weddings so early in life… while funerals remain unspoken.
We plan weddings in our minds for years… dresses, colors, vows.
But barely think of funeral arrangements.
Even though marriage is a maybe, and death is a guarantee.

People show up for grief in ways they rarely do for joy.
We gift more, travel more, cry more, hug tighter.
Maybe because sorrow is familiar.
It humbles us.
It reminds us that life is fragile, and in that realization, we connect.

Joy is measured… like people hold it in carefully.
But pain? Pain is heavy.
It demands space, time, courage… community.
And maybe it’s not just the loss that overwhelms us, but the weight it leaves behind.
The burden is rarely for the one who passed… it rests on the shoulders of those who remain.

There’s a kind of silence that follows loss — one that echoes louder than words.
In those moments, we remember to be human.
To check in.
To say “I’m here.”
To hold each other, even if we don’t know what to say.

Still, somehow… in all that heaviness, there is love.
In showing up, in tears shared, in silence held.
What consoles us… is that we’re there for each other.
And maybe that, in itself, is a kind of light.

WHEN THE WORLD DOESN’T SEE YOU

 

In the silence of it all…
You begin to retract, slowly. Not with a loud bang or dramatic exit, but with a quiet fading…
like morning mist under a rising sun.
There’s no audience, no applause.
Just the weight of your thoughts echoing in a room full of noise.

You look around and see the world, so vibrant, fast, and full of voices and color…
and somehow, you still feel unseen.
You wonder, is it me? Am I the ghost here?
Am I the only one who pauses in a world that glorifies motion?

The work you’ve poured yourself into feels like it disappears into a void.
You give, and you give, until the giving feels like grief.
You laugh less, create less, trust less…
Because what is the point of speaking if no one is listening?

And then the questions come. The dangerous ones.
Does any of it matter?
Do I matter?
You try to hold on to the remnants of what once was…
the passion, the excitement, the drive…
but even that feels like a distant echo.

You want to believe your efforts count for something.
Surely, they must?
But the world has a cruel way of measuring worth.
Numbers. Attention. Engagement. Results.
And when you don’t see the reward, you begin to question the reason.

Envy, that quiet intruder, seeps in.
You start to compare.
Others’ success. Others’ spotlight. Others’ rise.
And all you see is your stillness in contrast.
You think about the hours, the tears, the sweat… and ask,
Was it for nothing?

Time passes.
And with it, hope sometimes slips too.
You begin to believe that maybe this is it.
That life passed you by while you were busy trying.
And after all the consistency, the showing up, the hard work…
There’s nothing tangible to show.
Nothing that feels like success.

But what if… just what if… you are wrong?
Or what if I am right?

But before you go too far into that darkness, remember this...

Your value is not dependent on being seen.
The world has a way of delaying recognition for those whose hearts are true.
Some seeds bloom in a week, others take years... but both were planted with purpose.

You’re not invisible, you’re becoming.
The quiet seasons don’t mean you’re failing; they mean you’re growing roots.

Someone is seeing you.
Your work has touched someone, and even if it’s just one person, that ripple goes farther than you know.
You are not a waste of space. You are a necessary soul in a tired world.

You matter... because your voice carries truth, because your art exists, because your love reaches, because you still try.

So rest if you need to. Cry if you must. But please, don’t stop showing up.
There is more ahead, even if today it feels like less.