Fast trains.
Fast WiFi.
Fast replies when someone you love calls at 2am and you know, before they even speak, that they need you.
So you jump up, clear your throat, and use that fake-awake voice we all know too well.
“No, I am awake.”
You were not … But love has its own speed.
And somewhere along the way, speed stopped being a tool and became a measure of worth.
Now people rush everything.
We rush childhood.
Rush healing.
Rush love.
Rush grief.
Rush success.
We rush people into becoming before they have even met themselves properly.
The world rewards quick answers now. Quick opinions. Quick certainty. And if you hesitate too long, it can feel like everyone else has already moved ahead without you.
But I do not think human beings were built to bloom at the speed of algorithms.
Some things need wandering.
Some things need silence.
Some things need time.
How do you personally resist this belief?
I think I started resisting it the moment I realised exhaustion was being celebrated like a personality trait.
Somewhere between deadlines, responsibilities, and trying to hold everything together, I noticed how easy it is to become efficient at life without actually experiencing it.
So now I try to return to slower things.
I reread paragraphs.
I take long drives without needing a destination.
I let conversations breathe instead of rushing to fill every silence.
And when life becomes loud, I remind myself that not every season needs to look productive to be meaningful.
Some seasons are simply for becoming.
How do you protect younger people from this belief?
I try to remind younger people that there is nothing wrong with taking the scenic route through life.
Not everyone discovers who they are at eighteen.
Twenty five… forty.
Or even fifty.
And that is okay.
I want them to know they are allowed to change their minds. To begin again. To outgrow old dreams. To rest. To be uncertain without feeling left behind.
Because the truth is, some of the most beautiful parts of life arrive slowly … s-l-o-w-l-y.
Like trust.
Like wisdom.
Like becoming someone you genuinely like being alone with.
Fast has its place.
But slow is often where the real story begins.