ok

 Hey there, Stranger. 

*I walk over

to the worn-down shelf,

the one with the vinyls that smell like old bookstores and late-night heartaches.

My fingers pause—

there.

“Bitter Sweet Symphony.”

The sleeve crackles as I slide it out like it’s letting go of a secret.

The record drops.

The needle hums.

And then—

that first note,

that familiar ache of strings and sky.

It plays.

Again.

Again.

Again.

I sink into the chair by the window,

close my eyes,

and read this like a prophecy*:

They told you

this was it—

that life folds itself neatly

by twenty-five,

that dreams expire like milk

if not chased fast enough.

But they were wrong.

There are mornings ahead

that will hold you softer

than any lover ever did.

Cups of coffee

in cities you haven’t met yet.

Eyes that will look at you

like you built the sky.

There are songs

you haven’t heard—

but will.

They’ll find you

in grocery aisles,

or long drives,

and suddenly

the air will change.

You’ll remember who you are.

You don’t even know

your favorite memory yet.

Not the one

that makes you tear up

ten years later

with a smile

and a shake of the head.

It hasn’t happened.

There is a laugh

that will echo

so deep inside your ribs,

you’ll swear you’ve never truly laughed before.

There’s a version of you,

feet bare on warm pavement,

sun on your face,

finally breathing—

not just surviving.

They are not far.

You are already becoming them.

Bittersweet, yes.

That’s life.

But symphonic, too.

And the best part?

You’re still in the overture.

So keep going.

Because some of your favorite days

haven’t even said hello yet.