Right Now

Honestly, the more I sit with myself, the more I realise this one thing, most days, I’m not actually living. I’m just existing between memories and worries. My body is here, scrolling, working, responding, smiling on cue… but my mind? It’s either stuck in something that already happened or running ahead into a future that hasn’t even arrived yet. And I know I’m not alone in this. This is kind of the default setting of our generation.

We grew up being told that life is something you prepare for. Study hard now so life will be better later. Suffer a little today so you can relax tomorrow. Be patient, your time will come. And somewhere between all of that, we quietly learned that the present moment isn’t important, it’s just a waiting room. So we learned to delay joy, delay rest, delay happiness, delay peace. We told ourselves, “After this exam,” “after this degree,” “after this job,” “after this heartbreak heals,” “after I become more sorted.” But that after keeps moving further away, and we keep missing our lives while waiting for it.

A lot of us are carrying heavy pasts too. Old versions of ourselves we’re embarrassed about. Relationships that changed us in ways we didn’t consent to. Childhood moments where we felt unseen, unheard, or too much. And even when life is calm on the outside, something inside us keeps replaying those moments, like our mind is scared that if we stop remembering, we’ll repeat the pain. So we stay alert. Hyper-aware. Overthinking everything. Healing, but also hurting at the same time.

And then there’s the future, loud, demanding, stressful. The constant pressure to figure it all out. To know exactly who you are, where you’re going, and how long it’ll take you to get there. We compare our timelines with people we see online, even though we know we’re only seeing highlights. We panic about being left behind. About being “too late.” About not doing enough. About choosing wrong. The anxiety feels so real, even though the future is literally just a story our mind is telling us right now.

Living in the moment sounds simple, almost cliché, but it’s actually one of the hardest things to do when your nervous system has been in survival mode for years. Being present means letting your guard down. It means accepting that, right now, you are safe enough to breathe. And that can feel unfamiliar when you’re used to tension. But presence isn’t about being carefree or pretending nothing hurts. It’s about meeting life as it is, messy, uncertain, unfinished, and still allowing yourself to exist inside it without constant self-judgment.

It’s in the small things we keep rushing past. Drinking chai while it’s still warm instead of reheating it three times. Listening to a song without skipping halfway. Sitting in silence without feeling guilty for not being productive. Laughing freely without wondering how long it’ll last. Letting yourself feel okay on a random day without needing a big reason. These moments don’t look impressive, but they’re real. And real life happens quietly.

I think our generation is tired not because we’re weak, but because we’re carrying too much time in our heads. We’re grieving the past, chasing the future, and neglecting the present, all at once. And no human is meant to live like that. Healing doesn’t mean erasing the past, and growth doesn’t mean controlling the future. It just means learning how to come back to now, again and again, gently.

You don’t need to have your entire life figured out today. You don’t need to punish yourself for taking longer. You don’t need to earn rest by suffering first. This moment, imperfect, incomplete, ordinary, is still your life. And you’re allowed to be here for it. Even if you’re confused. Even if you’re healing. Even if you don’t know what’s next. Right now is not a mistake. Right now is enough.