THE QUIET CORNER | Why I'm Choosing the Now Over the "Someday"

I was driving home late the other night, just me and some empty road, when that "what if" finally caught up to me. You know the feeling. You’re cruising along, maybe checking your reflection in the rearview or thinking about that direct deposit that just hit, and you start doing the math. I’ve been so locked in lately, focusing on the "long game." Every spare bit of cash goes into a digital bucket I’m not allowed to touch. I’m out here skipping the late-night eats and passing on the weekend trips because I’m obsessed with this version of me that exists ten years from now. I’ve been treating my life like a project I’m trying to finish instead of something I’m actually supposed to be living.

But staring at the road, it just felt so… fragile.

Like, I’m out here grinding 24/7, gatekeeping my own happiness to fund a "someday" that isn’t even promised. If a car swerved into my lane right now and it was game over, what was all that saving even for? To be the most financially stable person in the afterlife? It’s such a scam. We’re taught to sacrifice our peak years—the years when we actually have the look, the energy, and the community—just to make sure our 70-year-old selves can sit in a slightly nicer chair.

I looked at the passenger seat and realized how much I’ve been missing because I was too busy being "responsible." I’ve been saying "next time" to so many things. Next time there’s a festival. Next time the group chat actually coordinates a trip. Next time I see those shoes that make me feel like the main character.

But what if the "next time" is literally right now?

I’m tired of the guilt that comes with spending money on things that don't have a "return on investment" other than pure joy. I want the memories that keep me awake at night because they were that good, not the anxiety of a budget spreadsheet. I want to invest in my chosen family and the experiences that make me feel like I’m actually part of the world, not just a spectator saving up for the finale.

I’m not going to be reckless—I still want to be that gorgeous, well-funded elder one day—but the balance has to shift. I’m done living for a ghost. If I’m going to put in the work, I deserve to see some of the rewards while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.

The road is long, sure, but I’m done staring so far ahead that I forget to enjoy the view from the driver's seat.