Hi,
For a long time, I thought happiness had to be loud—big milestones, big groups of friends, always being on the move. But I’m 19 now, and I’ve learned to love my life in the quiet ways I never imagined would matter most.
Poem:
I love my life for the first time in my life.
Slow mornings, home cooked meals, early nights,
getting lost in books, a small circle of friends,
tending to indoor plants, an apple a day,
afternoon walks, a regulated nervous system,
freedom to choose what I want, cups of tea,
no plan, stillness, softness, slowness.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
And it’s all I’ve got.
Backstory / Reflection:
Maybe this shift happened after my mother passed away. Losing her made me pay attention to the little things—the ones you usually rush past. I still think about how she found joy in simple rituals, like peeling fruit or folding laundry while humming to herself.
Now, I see it too. I see how a quiet life can still be a full one. How an afternoon walk with my sister, or making tea just the way I like it, can feel like enough. More than enough.
If you’re reading this and your life feels too chaotic, maybe this is your reminder: sometimes the best version of happiness isn’t about chasing more it’s about noticing what’s already here.
I’d love to know what’s one small thing in your everyday life that makes you feel at peace?
Talk soon,
Poems I’ll Never Post
Illustrations by Jane Austen