I’m standing in the space between what was and what’s coming — and it’s quieter than I expected. At first, it felt strange — I was more used to fast-paced chaos, to a rollercoaster of emotions. Right now, though, there’s only the smallest breeze ruffling through my hair, and I’m moving at a pace I can actually enjoy.

Sometimes nostalgia pulls me gently, sometimes forcefully, back toward the past and asks me to stay there for a while. Even though that chapter is long closed, there’s nothing I can change anymore — only lessons I’m still learning from, and memories I refuse to forget. Dwelling there gives me comfort, but I have to remind myself that it’s in the past for a reason.

Then there’s the pull of the future — the excitement of hope and possibility. The part of me that wants to jump straight into the deep end. I would love to fast-forward ten years, just to see where I end up. To know which decisions I made, which paths I chose, and which directions life pulled — or pushed — me toward.

But life doesn’t happen in decades. Life doesn’t just fast-forward.
It happens day by day. Action by action. Emotion by emotion.

Somehow, this space between the past and the future has given me peace. It’s teaching me how to sit with calmness and uncertainty at the same time. How to go with the flow. How to make plans — and still trust in life’s timing and direction.

It has given me contentment — the quiet knowing that everything is okay. That everything will be okay.
The future will be the most magical thing I’ll ever experience, so why should I let worries and fears take the better of me?

I know all of this sounds very linear and straightforward, but it isn’t. Worries and fears sometimes do get the better of me. Downward spirals into the past still happen, and I can’t always pull myself out of them easily. But in the grand scheme of things, I’m okay. I’m more present. I’m becoming a better version of myself every day.

Of course, there are things from the past I still struggle to let go of. Dreams and ideas that may never become reality. And that hurts, sometimes. But I can live with it. I can chase different dreams for now.

Because for me, it’s not never.
It’s not yet.
It will happen when it’s supposed to.
When I’m ready for it. When I’m ready to be fully present in it.

And the funny thing is — this stage of in-between will never truly end. Tomorrow will eventually become yesterday. Even the future I worry about now will, one day, be part of the past.

One of the most important mindset shifts this space of presence has taught me is this:

Everything is a win if the goal is experience.

Yes, I still hold certain outcomes in mind. I still dream, plan, and hope. But if things don’t unfold the way I imagined, there’s usually a reason. And my task is to look for the good in the version of the story that actually happened.

And that’s exactly what I’ll keep doing — looking for the good.
Until we meet again.