The Girl Who’s Always Running Late (and What It Taught Me About Slowing Down)

I have tried everything. 

Setting alarms earlier. Laying out clothes the night before. Pretending I’ll leave “five minutes earlier” (I won’t). And yet, somehow, I remain the girl who is always running late.

Not dramatically late. Just late enough to feel rushed. Late enough to apologize. Late enough to arrive flustered and already mentally behind.

For a long time, I treated this like a personal flaw; something to fix, optimize, and eventually conquer. But lately, I’ve been wondering: what if the problem isn’t that we’re running late, but that we’re all moving too fast anyway?

Everyone says the same thing now.
“Time is flying.”
“Where did the year go?”
“I can’t believe it’s already February.”

And yet…we keep speeding up.

The Illusion of Efficiency

We’ve optimized everything. Our workouts are shorter. Our meals are faster. Our communication is condensed into emojis and voice notes.

Efficiency is having a moment. But there’s a downside to doing everything quickly: you stop noticing it while it’s happening.

It’s not that life is less meaningful—it’s that we rarely give ourselves time to feel it.

Nostalgia Is Having a Renaissance

Have you noticed how suddenly everyone is romanticizing the past?

Disposable cameras are back. Handwritten notes feel revolutionary. People are printing photos again (like us!). Even long walks are somehow trending.

This isn’t accidental. When the present feels rushed, we instinctively look for ways to slow time down and find small rituals to anchor us. Things that ask us to pause instead of scroll.

Nostalgia isn’t about wishing for another era. It’s about wanting to feel present in this one.

Small Rituals > Big Resolutions

Big life changes are exhausting. No one wants another thing to overhaul.

What does feel doable? Small rituals.

The kind that don’t demand productivity or improvement—just attention.

• Looking at one photo a day
• Counting down to something instead of rushing toward it
• Revisiting memories without turning them into content

These moments aren’t flashy. They’re quiet. And that’s exactly why they work.

A Gentle Rebellion Against Rushing

Slowing down isn’t about doing less. It’s about paying attention to more. It’s choosing meaning over momentum. Presence over perfection. Memory over accumulation.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s letting ourselves believe that small moments are enough.

Because years from now, when we look back, we probably won’t remember how efficient we were. We’ll remember how it felt.