I Yearn,PROUDLY.

I think yearning is proof of life.

I yearn, proudly.

You know what’s funny?

Somewhere along the way, yearning became embarrassing.

Wanting things became embarrassing.

Caring became embarrassing.

Being excited became embarrassing.

People started acting like the coolest thing you could be was detached.

Like the ultimate goal in life was to shrug and say, “Eh, whatever happens, happens.”

But I don’t think I was built that way.

I yearn.

For people.

For conversations.

For places I’ve never been.

For versions of myself I haven’t met yet.

For the kind of mornings that feel like movie scenes.

For friendships that last decades.

For art that leaves me staring at a wall afterward.

For a life that feels fully lived.

And honestly?

I’m done pretending that’s something to be ashamed of.

Because when did yearning become a weakness?

When did wanting more from life become something we had to hide?

Some of my favorite people are yearners.

They’re the ones who stay up late talking about dreams.

The ones who save photos of places they want to visit.

The ones who imagine futures.

The ones who care too much.

The ones who get their hopes up.

Sure, sometimes they get disappointed.

But at least they’re participating.

At least they’re alive to the experience of being human.

I think there are two ways to move through life.

You can keep your expectations low, avoid attachment, avoid excitement, avoid risk, and avoid disappointment.

Or you can yearn.

You can let yourself want things.

You can admit that some dreams matter to you.

You can care deeply.

You can love openly.

You can hope recklessly.

And yes, sometimes your heart gets bruised.

But at least your life belongs to you.

Because if you’re never disappointed, were you ever invested?

If nothing breaks your heart, did anything truly matter?

I don’t want to become the kind of person who’s too cool to care.

I want to be the kind of person who still gets excited.

Who still believes in things.

Who still has lists of places to go, books to read, skills to learn, people to love, and stories to tell.

I think yearning is proof of life.

It’s evidence that there are still parts of the world calling your name.

It’s your soul pointing at something and saying,

“More of that, please.”

And maybe that’s not cringe.

Maybe that’s beautiful.

Maybe the real tragedy isn’t yearning too much.

Maybe it’s convincing yourself not to yearn at all.

So yes.

I yearn.

For a hundred things.

A thousand, probably.

And for the first time in a long time,

I do it proudly.