maybe life is meant to be this way

Hi, popping in to recommend you a song that'll go along with this newsletter, playing it while you read it or not is totally YOUR decision.

now that you’ve made your decision, sit back, grab a drink, a pen and a piece of paper. I want you to make your own “maybe life is meant to be this way” list after or while reading this, and I want you to read it on days when you feel low or not enough. Because even on the worst days, you’re ENOUGH.

Slow down, settle in and let’s begin.

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Maybe life isn’t about becoming anything at all. Maybe it isn’t about collecting accolades or proving your worth to a world that never seems satisfied. Maybe it’s not about climbing ladders or chasing timelines or fitting into expectations that were never yours to begin with. Maybe it’s just about being here, in this moment, with your feet planted firmly in the now. Maybe it’s about inhaling deeply and realizing that you, just as you are, are enough.

Maybe it’s about embracing the person you are right now, the one who has survived every heartbreak, every disappointment, every late-night doubt. Maybe it’s about sitting with your imperfections instead of trying to smooth them out, about looking at your reflection and seeing a story rather than a list of flaws. Maybe it’s about realizing that the scars you carry aren’t signs of damage, but proof that you’ve lived, that you’ve felt, that you’ve risked yourself for something real.

Maybe life is about noticing the small things—the way sunlight filters through your curtains in the morning, the way coffee tastes better when shared with someone you love, the way a song can make you feel understood in ways people sometimes can’t. Maybe it’s about finding magic in the mundane, about paying attention to the details, about understanding that happiness is not some grand destination, but a collection of fleeting, beautiful moments stitched together in time.

Maybe it’s about laughter—the deep, unrestrained kind that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water. The kind that sneaks up on you on the worst days, reminding you that joy is stubborn, that it finds its way back even when you think you’ve lost it for good. Maybe it’s about finding humor in your own chaos, about laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, about not taking yourself so seriously that you forget to live.

Maybe it’s about telling people you love them, not just when it’s easy, but when it’s terrifying, when your voice shakes, when your walls are high, when you’re not sure if they’ll say it back. Maybe it’s about saying it without conditions, without expectations, without needing it to be reciprocated in the exact way you imagine. Maybe it’s about understanding that love, in all its forms, is always worth expressing.

Maybe it’s about slowing down, about realizing that the world won’t crumble if you take a breath, if you choose peace over productivity, if you sit in silence instead of constantly trying to fill it. Maybe it’s about stepping away from the rush, about walking instead of running, about remembering that life is not a race to be won but an experience to be felt, savored, lived.

Maybe it’s about forgiving yourself for the things you didn’t know then, for the choices you made in survival, for the times you let fear drive you. Maybe it’s about loosening the grip on regret, about extending the same grace to yourself that you so freely give to others. Maybe it’s about understanding that healing isn’t linear, that growth isn’t always pretty, that you are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress.

Maybe it’s about finding beauty in the ordinary, in the way the world keeps moving even when everything feels still, in the rhythm of everyday life that often goes unnoticed. Maybe it’s about appreciating the way the wind feels against your skin, the way a stranger’s smile can brighten your day, the way some moments feel like poetry even when they aren’t written down.

Maybe it’s about letting go of the weight you were never meant to carry—the guilt, the shame, the expectations that don’t belong to you. Maybe it’s about realizing that you don’t have to be everything for everyone, that your worth isn’t tied to how much you can endure or if someone will pick you in a room full of people. Maybe it’s about choosing yourself, for once, without apology.

Maybe it’s about dancing in your kitchen at 2 a.m. just because you’re alive and healthy, maybe it’s about moving your body not for the sake of looking a certain way, but simply for the joy of feeling alive. Maybe it’s about singing loudly even if you’re off-key, about allowing yourself to exist without constantly trying to mold yourself into something palatable. Maybe it’s about taking up space without feeling like you need to shrink.

Maybe it’s about sitting in silence and actually listening—to your breath, to your thoughts, to the things you’ve been too afraid to confront. Maybe it’s about realizing that discomfort is often the beginning of transformation, that the things we try to avoid are usually the things we need to face the most. Maybe it’s about making peace with the stillness instead of always seeking distraction.

Maybe it’s about finding home in people instead of places, about realizing that safety isn’t always a physical space, but a feeling—a warmth, a knowing, a presence that makes the world feel a little less heavy. Maybe it’s about holding onto those who make you feel like yourself, about cherishing the ones who see you even when you can’t see yourself.

Maybe it’s about accepting that not everything needs a purpose, that not every moment has to be productive, that it’s okay to exist without constantly proving your right to do so, that you’re allowed to be on your phone and just consume some brainrot. Maybe it’s about understanding that some of the most beautiful things in life serve no function other than to be experienced—to be felt, to be loved, to be lived.

Maybe it’s about allowing joy to exist alongside the pain, about realizing that happiness doesn’t mean the absence of sorrow, but the ability to hold both without breaking. Maybe it’s about learning that sadness doesn’t invalidate the good, that light and darkness will always dance together, that your heart is big enough to hold it all.

Maybe it’s about being soft in a world that tells you to be hard, about refusing to let bitterness take root in your heart, about choosing kindness even when it’s the harder option. Maybe it’s about understanding that strength isn’t always loud, that sometimes it looks like gentleness, like tenderness, like a quiet refusal to let the world make you cruel.

Maybe it’s about choosing love, again and again, even when it’s messy, even when it’s uncertain, even when it has broken you before. Maybe it’s about trusting that love, in its truest form, is never wasted, that even the love we give without return shapes us in ways we may never fully understand.

Maybe it’s about surrendering to the imperfection of it all, about embracing the unknown, about realizing that certainty is a myth and control is an illusion. Maybe it’s about finding peace in the in-between, in the unfigured-out, in the beautifully chaotic mess of being human.

Maybe it’s about looking at your life—the pain, the joy, the failures, the triumphs—and realizing that none of it was wasted. That every version of you has been worthy. That even in your brokenness, even in your uncertainty, even in your becoming, you have always been whole.

Maybe life isn’t about what we’ve been chasing. Maybe it’s about what we already have. Maybe it’s about being here, now, present, fully alive. Maybe it’s about simply being.

♡