someday...
i don’t know what to call this.
maybe it’s longing. maybe it’s just a 17-year-old with too much time and a head full of quiet fantasies. but lately i’ve been daydreaming — a lot — about my upcoming life. the kind of life i want. the kind that feels both impossibly far and somehow already mine if i just… tried.
someday i dream of staying alone somewhere far from every known person. no familiar faces, no context, just me and whatever place i end up in. other days i imagine a countryside — slow mornings, someone beside me, the kind of life that doesn’t need to be explained to anyone.
and then some days i want the city. anonymous and alive. living aloof in some urban corner where nobody knows my name.
i keep rewinding the same daydreams. those mornings. that slow life. a future wife, maybe — if there’s one destined — and the mundane moments i’d share with her. it makes me happy and sad at the same time. happy because it feels real enough to reach. sad because i’m here, 17, and it’s all still just a dream.
but mostly happy. because i think i could make it, if i tried.
i don’t wish for something extraordinary.
i just want peace. a home where two people understand each other, support each other’s growth, and cooperate with whatever life throws at them. i want to enjoy every mundane moment — the slow ones, the forgettable ones, the ones that only matter because she’s there.
i don’t even think i want kids. just us. traveling sometimes, staying in sometimes. being alive together in the quietest, most ordinary way.
sometimes i wish i could get just a glimpse of my future — see how it all turns out, see her. just once, so i could be at peace.
but i know that would shatter something. the unknown is the whole point. and on good days, i make peace with that. i remind myself that i can still shape it. that the story isn’t written yet.
so i hold the daydream loosely. and i keep going.
seeing all the noise in the world — the conflicts, the chaos — i don’t want much. just a peaceful home filled with love. someone who gets it. slow mornings. a life enjoyed fully, in the smallest ways.
and then one day, dying peacefully.
maybe that’s the purpose i’ve been looking for all along. nothing grand. just that.
just that.