#lessonsintime
“I joined for adventure…
turns out it’s mostly waiting around in uncomfortable places.”
That’s the truth of it—
not the posters,
not the stories told down the pub,
not the bright edge of glory
we thought we were stepping into.
I remember the waiting most.
Not the marches,
not the noise,
not even the ache—
but the waiting.
Sitting on cold ground,
back against a pack,
boots damp,
hands numb,
eyes scanning nothing in particular
while time stretched
longer than the horizon.
We thought adventure would be constant—
movement, purpose, direction.
But more often,
it was silence between orders,
a pause no one explained.
“Stand by.”
“Wait out.”
“Not yet.”
And so, we did.
We waited in fields,
on ranges,
on foreign soil where the air felt sharper—
snow beneath us on mountain exercises,
skis biting into slopes we’d never imagined
back when we first signed on.
Those were the moments we remembered—
the peaks, the movement, the stories.
But they were only pieces.
Because in between them
was the stillness.
The uncertainty.
The quiet question
none of us quite voiced—
what are we actually here for?
We followed orders without the full picture,
played our part without seeing the whole.
Just lads doing as we were told,
trusting there was something bigger
beyond what we could see.
And there was.
It just took years to understand.
Years to see how the waiting mattered—
how patience was part of the training,
how discipline wasn’t just in action,
but in holding steady
when nothing seemed to happen.
Now, looking back,
the discomfort fades,
the waiting softens—
and what’s left
is something clearer.
We were being shaped
not just for the moments of action,
but for everything in between.
“I joined for adventure…”
And I got it—
just not in the way I expected.
Apr 11
Apr 11, 2026 at 4:26 AM UTC
Can’t hold onto anyone’s time—
their life is out of your hands.
But still, we all take these
steps of being so etched in
somebody’s memory—
like footprints in the sand.
I keep counting all the time I
tried to hold onto the past,
without a watch in my hand.
Watch the moment pass—
_tense_, sinister in tenacity.
A voracious hour—
feeding off what I didn’t say,
what I left behind.
Art quietly buried in my mind.
And all those things I thought
were gone— they love to
reappear as a new regret.
Still transparent. Still off-putting.
But put off those mistakes—
and put on the lessons.
Be beautiful in your time.
Not perfect. _Just worth building_.
They’ll write it down— the inspiring
story of how you rose,
even when time kept slipping
through your hands.
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 12:55 PM UTC
Hey, younger me,
wipe those tears—yes, I see them.
You think love will last just because it feels endless,
but listen, not everything meant forever stays.
And that’s okay.
Not all wilted petals mean the flower was unworthy,
some were just never meant to be held too tight.
And you, future me,
are you smiling? Have you learned to breathe?
Tell me, did we finally stop carrying the weight of every goodbye?
Did we find softness in the mirror,
or are we still chasing ghosts of what could’ve been?
I hope we learned to love without fear,
to rest without guilt,
to speak without swallowing the words.
And me, standing here,
torn between the aching past and the uncertain tomorrow—
What do I do with all this?
With the lessons, the heartbreak, the hope?
I guess I keep walking,
one step for the child who dreamed,
one for the future waiting ahead,
and one, just one,
for the me that exists right now.
Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 2:48 PM UTC