The Completely Hypothetical and Totally Not Inevitable Journey Around the Next Corner on the Bus.
Listen, we’ve all been there.
Convinced that our entire existential vibe will upgrade after the next corner.
After we finally buy the ridiculously expensive coffee machine.
After we find the perfect sofa that doesn’t have a mysterious stain.
After we adopt the hobby, that will definitely make us interesting on Instagram.
Corners are sneaky like that. They promise a montage. They whisper that just ahead, the soundtrack changes, and you start walking in slow motion.
And sometimes, yes—new things are nice.
But here’s the detail they never include in the montage:
When you turn the corner, all of you comes with you.
Including the part that forgets to water plants and still replays that awkward thing you said in 2012.
You can trade rain for sunshine, but you’re still the person who didn’t pack an umbrella. Your internal weather app stays stubbornly set to “scattered nonsense,” regardless of the postcode.
This isn’t pessimism.
It’s just remembering you packed your own luggage.
You are the main character in your life, but sometimes you’re a slightly needy protagonist. Every job, every apartment, every relationship is just a new set for the same ongoing show: You, but with a different background.
Every apartment has a kitchen.
Not every apartment is where you magically become someone who meal-preps.
We love to confuse movement with meaning. Busyness with purpose. Motion without direction is how you end up with a high step count and a soul still sitting on the couch. Any road will do if you’re just trying to escape the group chat.
You can’t outrun your own mind. It jogs alongside you like a loyal but irritating companion, whispering, “Hey, remember that deadline?” and “Are we sure this counts as happiness?” Just as you’re trying to enjoy the view.
You are a consciousness temporarily operating a body that requires water, rest, and the occasional stretch. This body is the rental car, not the destination. And you’ve been ignoring the check-engine light because the radio still works.
If your happiness depends entirely on a specific person, place, or artisanal kombucha, that’s not happiness—it’s a hostage situation. It doesn’t mean those things aren’t good. It just means you’ve handed them the thermostat to your inner life.
You don’t need a flawless relationship with anyone else before you build one with yourself. In fact, most other relationships are quietly waiting for you to stop cancelling plans with yourself to stare at your phone.
And if you keep having the same argument with different people—about dishes, boundaries, or emotional labour—it’s worth considering that the universe might not be conspiring against you. Sometimes, the common factor is simply… you really hate dishes.
So what’s actually around the next corner?
Maybe it’s your dream opportunity.
Maybe it’s another “learning experience” (which is just failure with better PR).
Maybe it’s a decent taco stand. One can hope.
Often, the real journey isn’t about what’s around the bend. It’s about which version of you shows up. The one that’s grown—or the one that’s just grumpy from the drive.
Change the scenery. Move to the coast. Buy the plant.
Just don’t outsource your inner peace to a realtor or a lifestyle brand. A place only earns five stars when the main tourist—you—stops losing their keys.
The next corner is coming. That part is inevitable.
The only real question is this:
When you turn it, will you be the same person—just slightly more sunburnt and in debt?
Or will you be someone who, at the very least, remembered to bring a snack for the journey?
