Issue No. 77

I think part of us wants to believe that tomorrow is already mapped out for us. It’s comforting to assume that each day will unfold predictably, echoing the rhythms of yesterday. One day blurs into the next, routines repeating until we become convinced that tomorrow will be just another version of today. Before we know it, months turn into years, and we wonder why we never reached that place we once imagined for ourselves. Dreams remain dreams, and goals stay locked away as unfulfilled ambitions. We put off what matters most, paralyzed by the fear of facing our flaws head-on. We avoid looking in the mirror because we don’t want to confront the reality that our youth was spent chasing things that might never truly matter in the end.

A shiver runs down my spine when I realize I'm getting older. I see the wrinkles deepening on my face, the subtle aches in my back, the skin losing its elasticity. Friends drift away, and moments we once took for granted slip into distant memories. Just today, my grandmother asked me to buy her a new set of teeth. It made me wonder—how long before I find myself making that same request to my own grandchild? The thought unsettles me, reminding me of how fleeting life is. We rarely consider how quickly time passes until it's too late to reclaim it.

The future feels like a phantom, something we obsess over but can never quite touch. It’s a place that exists only in our minds, a construct built on hopes, fears, and expectations. As children, we didn't think about it because the present was all we knew—bright, vibrant, and endlessly exciting. Back then, everything felt larger than life, unburdened by the weight of understanding. But as we grow older, the world loses some of its color, and we begin to see its imperfections. Some of us become jaded, others evolve into leaders, visionaries, or inspirations to those around us.

When I think about my future, I often fall into the trap of over-planning. I ask myself: What should I do tomorrow? Next week? Next year? I’ve always believed that meticulous planning is the key to success, but life has taught me that plans often crumble. We overextend, only to face disappointment when reality doesn’t match our expectations. In truth, nothing is guaranteed but our eventual absence. That’s the one certainty we all share, yet we spend so much time pretending it won’t catch up to us.

It’s all a leap of faith, isn’t it? We cling to the belief that tomorrow will arrive just as today did. We convince ourselves our parents will always be there, that our friendships will remain strong, that we’ll somehow keep our passion and drive intact as we age. But deep down, we know that everything is temporary. One day, those we love will be gone. One day, we’ll wake up and realize that the dreams we shelved for “later” have slipped beyond our reach.

And yet, despite all this uncertainty, we press forward. Because, in the end, what else can we do? We’re prisoners of time. We flow where it leads us. We take what we’re given.

Until next week,