I grew up often listening that time is a constant, that you cant take it for granted and it always felt like I was the pause button in a movie where narratives kept shifting across the street, while I stood there watching time pass by.

I wish I was the pause amidst all that was happening. I barely knew what time was, twenty fours hours felt short. It felt like holding water in your hand, it dispersed in no time.

 …Cut to the present moment, I’ve filled myself with cautions and deposits from baggages and work undone. I sit here wondering what and where I can get with the time I have. From success being my best friend, it was a given that some people shall only make it big.

In the recent past, Ive learnt and unlearnt so many things about time. Who defines these deadlines? Im 26, I still sit down and stare at my reverie,  with not a single clue of where I am heading. Some days I am so eaten up by myself and my idea of living, that I end up not being able to breathe.  

Nobody told me about the repercussions of time and reverie, while I was on the other side. I see everyone getting by, doing things, climbing ladders and reaching heights.

I still sit down and stare at my reverie,  with not a single clue of where I am heading.

There’s an innate narrative that has been pushing me to do and just do, I am guilty if I am just being, I feel like I don’t deserve this much rest time. This cognizant knot feels stronger than my existence! I always knew I was doing great, until I realised that my identity was not my being but clearly my doing. It feels like that is what is churning around us, your self worth is attached to the jobs you do, the success you act on. We have forgotten to fall in love with things which are free of cost. We have stopped breathing for existence, we do it without even doing it. Whats this pain of gulit, why cant I just rest, why cant I believe that I am not my job, I am not only my professional ambitions?

In a world that is filled with chase, ambition. I don’t feel ambitious, I don’t feel the fire, like everyone does. There is guilt that I am 26, and I don’t feel the fire. I've learnt that Time is a constant, and some things require ice than fire. Some down time, some staring at the trees, some walks in the outdoor. Some grooving to music  and coffee.

Maybe I let down the 6 year old little girl who made a list of dreams, who knew one day she would be the Most Successful Woman.

We are on our own numbers, teaching, learning and unlearning what adulthood or growing up should feel like. I am happy being my kind of successful. Ive joined a crew on the other side, the ambitious me has passed. My ambition is for compassion, for love, for acceptance and for all that life has to surprise me with. This might take a forty years more. But I burn bridges and let go of the expectations that we carry within ourselves, to fit in, to do, to race and to prove. 

Growing up I never learnt that you are liberated only when you stop resisting. I still struggle with it. As the trees swing and dance to the music, this lifetime is for a purpose that each of us find and grow with. We also grow out of these purposes, to only find new ones. There is beauty in being your own kind of ambitious, thriving for you and accepting your reality. Somedays taking a deep breath is priority, and that's my kind of ambition.