You’re always waiting.
Subtly.
Not in a way you’d call waiting.
But it’s there,
as a quiet, background hum.
Waiting for the next step to be clear.
Waiting for something to change.
Waiting for that moment when everything clicks.
But it never comes.
Because there is no moment.
There is no future waiting to arrive.
No next.
No finish line where everything suddenly makes sense.
The future is nothing but a thought,
passing through now.
So what exactly are you waiting for?
For this moment to be different?
For this moment to feel better?
For you to be better, do better, have more?
What if waiting is just the mind rejecting this—as it is?
What if waiting is what makes you feel like something’s missing?
What if now is all there is—
and all you ever needed?
What is left to wait for then?
Love,
P.S.: If my words resonate, my work might too.
You’ll find ways to go deeper here.
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