Do you also feel like you are waiting for something?

The art of waiting.

Hey, pretty soul. I hope the days are being kind to you, and if they’re not, I hope you’re being kind to yourself anyway.

Lately, I’ve been circling around one quiet thought that just won’t leave me alone: How much of our life quietly fades away while we’re waiting?

Waiting for a message that might change everything.
Waiting for a door to open, for clarity to arrive, for the heaviness to lift.
Waiting for the right time, the right feeling… or simply, for something to finally feel right.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize, we don’t just wait.
We live in the waiting.

We wait in traffic, in long queues, in hospital corridors, and in whispered midnight prayers. We wait for love, for peace, for healing. For some kind of sign that it’s all going to be okay.

And somewhere along the way, without even noticing, we become artists.
Not of colors or canvas, but of patience. Of hope. Of holding on.

We paint our days with soft strokes of “maybe soon.”
We write poetry in our heads about the life we haven’t lived yet.
We carry our longing like a second skin. Quietly. Gently. Fully.

We become the kind of people who still hold onto hope even when nothing makes sense, even when the days blur together, even when all we can say is,
“Maybe next week. Maybe next month. Maybe next time.”

And I don’t know about you, but that kind of waiting?
It’s heavy.
It’s quiet.
It’s real.

“How much of human life is lost in waiting?”

That line hit me deep. Because we don’t talk about this enough, the art of waiting without answers. Waiting without timelines. Waiting with nothing but the ache of “not yet.”

But still, we wait.
Because deep down, we believe that some chapters take longer to unfold.
Some dreams just need more time.

So if you’re in that space right now, where everything feels like a long pause, please remember:
You’re not behind.
You’re not forgotten.
You’re just in the part where the story is ripening.

Sometimes, waiting is the most powerful thing we can do.
Because it teaches us to trust what we cannot yet see.

If this felt close to your heart, you might also like other articles of this series.

The art of doing nothing.
The art of not expressing.
The art of observing.

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