The Future I Am Building, Far Away and Full of Love

There are days when the present feels too loud, when the world moves too fast and the weight of now presses heavily against my chest. But then, I close my eyes and let my mind drift—far, far away—to the future I look forward to. A future that feels like a soft embrace, a quiet sanctuary, a place where my heart no longer feels the need to race.

I see it so clearly. A city safe and quiet, where the air hums with serenity, where the streets are lined with trees that dance gently with the wind, where the night sky is free of noise, unpolluted by the harshness of the world. A place where I do not have to watch my back, where my soul does not feel caged, where I can walk without fear and breathe without restraint. This is the city where my home exists, where love is woven into every brick, every window, every piece of furniture placed with care.

This home is covered in too much love—so much that it spills out of its walls and into the air, thick and warm like honey. It lingers in the scent of home-cooked meals, in the laughter that rings through the rooms, in the gentle way hands find each other in the quiet moments of the day. Love is the foundation, the roof, the very air we breathe inside this space. Love is the language spoken here, the silent understanding in every glance, the comfort found in every touch.

I look forward to a future that is quiet. Not silent, but quiet. The kind of quiet that holds peace, not loneliness. A heart filled with love and calmness, where the storm of self-doubt has long settled, where the wounds of the past have healed into stories instead of scars. A future where my soul is not burdened by the chaos of the world, where my heart beats in a rhythm that does not feel rushed, where I am not just existing, but living—fully, deeply, intentionally.

In this future, I have a partner—kind, patient, unwavering. A love that does not demand, does not suffocate, does not come with conditions or ultimatums. A love that is simply there, present in all the ways that matter. A love that feels like home even before we step through the front door. A love that walks beside me, that holds my hand through the good and the bad, that sees me even when I feel invisible. This partner, the one I walk beside now, is still there in that future, still choosing me, still staying, still loving in the same quiet, steady way.

And in every corner of that home, in every breath of that future, God is present. Always. Not in grand, overwhelming ways, but in the small, everyday moments—the way the morning light filters through the curtains, the way the rain sounds against the roof, the way my heart feels full even on ordinary days. God, the constant. God, the peace. God, the reason for it all.

I look forward to a future where this space still exists. This space where I write to you, all of you. But away from social media, away from the noise of the crowd. A space that belongs to just us, where my words find you in the quiet, in the stillness, in the moments where the world fades and all that remains is this connection between writer and reader, between heart and heart. A space where I do not have to filter my thoughts, where I do not have to shrink myself to fit the world’s expectations. Here, in this future, I still write. I always write.

And in that home, in that future, life is slow, gentle, lived in the moments that truly matter. Homemade food fills the kitchen, the scent of spices and warmth curling through the air, a reminder that love exists in the simplest acts of care. A library sits in one of the rooms, filled with books that have shaped me, stories that have carried me through the years, words that have become my solace. A place where I sit for hours, lost in pages, finding pieces of myself in the lives of fictional people, in the ink-stained truths of poets and dreamers.

I look forward to the future. Far, far away, yet already written in my heart. A home filled with love. A heart filled with peace. A life that finally, finally feels like my own.

Neta