Maybe You Were Meant to Find This
I have always believed that people don’t just find stories.
Sometimes, stories find people.
Maybe that is how you got here.
I don’t know what is happening in your life right now.
Maybe you are happy.
Maybe you are hurting in a way you haven’t told anyone.
Maybe you are carrying a decision that is keeping you up at night.
Maybe you are missing someone who is still alive.
Maybe you are starting over — and smiling through it so nobody worries.
Or maybe you are simply sitting somewhere quiet, wondering how life became so different from the life you once imagined for yourself.
I don’t know.
And I won’t pretend that I do.
But I know something about being human.
We carry a lot.
Far more than we show.
And most of what we carry never makes it into conversation.
It just lives inside us.
Heavy. Quiet. Unspoken.
That’s why I write.
Not because I have figured life out.
I haven’t.
Not because I know more than you.
I don’t.
I write because sometimes somebody has to say the thing everyone is feeling but nobody is saying out loud.
Sometimes somebody has to sit in the uncomfortable question instead of rushing to the answer.
Sometimes somebody has to find the words for what the rest of us have only been feeling.
And sometimes —
we just need to laugh at this wildly unpredictable, beautifully messy thing called life.
So don’t overthink where to start.
Just look around.
Read whatever pulls at something in you.
You may find an answer you weren’t looking for.
You may leave with a question that changes how you see things.
You may laugh until something loosens in your chest.
You may remember someone you haven’t thought about in years.
You may even find yourself in a story that was never written about you —
and feel, for a moment, completely understood.
And if that happens…
maybe you were always meant to find it.
Come as you are.
There is room for all of you here.
— Iyanda