yearning for the next

you can learn to slow down 🍵

The other day, I overheard a literal ninth grader discussing with her friend how she scored all 5’s on her AP exams this year.
“I don’t think it’s enough though,” she said, frowning just a little, “I’ll need to do more next year if I want to stand out.”

And I just stood there.
Listening.
Wanting to cry a little.

Because somewhere along the way, even children have learned how to measure their worth in checkboxes and college acceptances. Somewhere along the way, even youth have vanished into the constant waiting that controls our lives. We’ve all learned how to shrink our joy into resume lines. That euphoric summer when you fell in love for the first time at your New York City internship for that company turned into a bullet point on some Google Document that your new employees will cast their fleeting glances over. Fleeting, fleeting. We’ve all learned how to be palatable, polished, productive. How to perform for someone who never even asked.

Humans have the tendency to always be looking for the next thing.
The next subscriber.
The next promotion.
The next milestone.
The next version of ourselves we think will finally be enough.

It becomes a lifelong chase, us humans, yearning, yearning, so deeply for our next reinvention, until all you do is mourn the version of you that you lost. Until we are all ghosts in calendars we never meant to fill.

Grasping at the next thing for eternity, until the next thing is you dying.

But take a moment with me.
Breathe.

Write down your thoughts. Spend time with your mother. Breathe in the scent of that elderly pine tree next to your favourite cafe.

Submerse yourself in this life of yours.
Your radiant beauty.
Your softness.
The moments that don’t fit on a college/job application or LinkedIn update.

You are allowed to want more… that doesn’t make you greedy.
But you are also allowed to stop.
To feel full.
To say, this is enough for now.

Because your silver is somebody else’s gold.
And someone out there is praying for a life that looks like yours.

So take the pressure off.
Remember how you came to be — not just the achievements, but the quiet resilience, the love, the way you still laugh on hard days.

This moment, this breath, this version of you. It matters.

That’s enough.
You are enough.

Thank you.

Yours truly, matchacafe 💌