[Instrumental] [Verse 1] I wake up without an alarm now. The sunlight does its job better than I ever did. The plants on the windowsill are still alive, that’s more progress than I used to think possible. [Verse 2] My friends post promotions, proposals, gender reveals, soft launches, and I double-tap them all like blessings. There’s no envy left, just a kind of peace that smells like old coffee and morning dust. [Pre-Chorus 1] The girl I was wouldn’t recognize this silence as success. She thought happiness was fireworks, not a playlist playing on repeat while I fold laundry at midnight. [Chorus 1] I don’t chase milestones anymore. I move slower, like I’m savoring the buffering screen before a video loads, still waiting, still patient, still here. [Verse 3] Love feels less like lightning now, and more like a small campfire someone else might stumble across someday. I’m fine tending it alone until then. [Verse 4] Sometimes I think about the ghosts, the ones I loved, the ones I lost, the versions of me I outgrew. They sit with me during long drives, nod along to the music, and leave me when the chorus hits. [Pre-Chorus 2] I used to think I had to run to catch up, to prove I could keep pace with the people who sprinted ahead. But I’ve learned that blooming late still means blooming. [Chorus 2] Now I talk to strangers at cafés, write songs I don’t post, laugh at nothing in grocery aisles. I’m thirty-seven and finally at home in my own orbit, grateful for gravity, but not afraid of the drift. [Bridge] The future doesn’t scare me anymore. It just waits, like an unopened message I’ll read when I’m ready. [Outro] The world hums soft and low, and I hum back. This isn’t the end of the story, just a quiet beginning I finally chose. [Instrumental]
