Perhaps the hardest truth I have come to accept is that nothing in this world is truly mine.
Today, I took a day off from work because it’s my birthday. And I decided to write this as a reflection of one of the biggest realizations I’ve had at this point in my life.
I remember a phrase I once read somewhere: The older you get, the sadder you become.
I know we all have different interpretations of that statement. But for me, there’s some truth to it.
Sometimes, life feels heavier, not entirely because of how responsibilities pile up as we grow older or how challenges always seem to meet us halfway, but because everything surrounding us—the people, the material things, and even the feelings we hold dear—was never really within our control to begin with.
Sometimes, this realization comes quietly. Other times, it hits you like a slap in the face.
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I used to think that if you gave more, cared more, loved more, tried harder, and waited longer, life would eventually recognize your efforts and give you the things you truly deserved.
But I’ve come to realize that I’ve always been too focused on holding on to things, as if I could keep them forever, when the reality is that I can’t.
And that makes growing up feel a little sadder.
You’re no longer crying because of a broken toy. You’re weeping silently because you’re trying to hold on to things you cannot even grasp.
The people I love are not mine to own. They have their own lives, choices, and paths to take. No matter how much I wish to keep them close, I cannot simply ask them to stay just because their presence makes me feel comfortable. Nor can I ask the universe to keep them from being taken away from me, as if the world owes me their permanence.
Even the things I work hard for are not guaranteed to remain. Circumstances change, opportunities come and go, and even the versions of myself that I once knew continue to evolve as I grow older.
I don’t think this realization will make me immune to disappointment. It will never be easy to let go of people and things that make us feel human.
But perhaps I can teach myself to hold things a little more gently.
To live without possessing, hope without demanding, and appreciate without expecting permanence.
If I cannot own them, perhaps I can at least keep the lessons they taught me, the feelings I experienced, and the memories I collected along the way.
Perhaps that’s what we get to keep after all.
