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alternate, beach, blog, daydream, early, enough, freedom, friendship, happiness, Hope, life, love, mental health, peace, Reflection, roots, softness, solitude, travel, version, wander, writing
Describe your life in an alternate universe.
I like to think I’d still wake up early every morning. I didn’t used to be that kind of person, but somewhere along the way (age, wisdom, who knows) I started to love the quiet of early mornings. There’s something about the world before it fully wakes up that feels sacred. Peaceful. Like it belongs just to me for a little while.
I still wouldn’t be a coffee drinker (some habits stay the same across timelines), but I’d have something to sip — maybe tea, maybe one of those overpriced fizzy vitamin drinks, but probably my trusty diet soda. And I’d take it out onto my deck to watch the waves roll in.
Because in this version of life, I live by the ocean.
Not some huge mansion or flashy beachfront estate. Just a simple, open space with a view of the waves. Enough room to breathe, stretch out, and listen to the world exhale with the tide. That’s where I’d start every day. Feet bare, hair messy, face tilted toward the breeze.
I wouldn’t need a lot. Just enough to meet my needs, keep things comfortable, and leave room for adventure. To be able to travel when I feel the itch. To not stress about every unexpected expense. That might be considered wealthy by some standards. I know from where I sit now, it would feel like a dream.
In this life, I’d travel. I’d play my sport, really play it, and not just in the same few places over and over. I’d roam across the country, maybe beyond. Small towns, big cities, places people skip over on their way to somewhere else. I’d see them all. I’d meet people—funny, smart, kind, weird, wonderful people. The kind of people you remember.
I’m not sure if I’d travel solo. Maybe sometimes. I’ve learned how to enjoy my own company. But I’d like to think my friends would show up, hop in the car, book a last-minute flight, make a memory with me. I’d hope for those shared moments. For deep conversations under unfamiliar stars. For the laughter that happens only when you’re just a little lost in a place you’ve never been.
That’s the alternate version of my life. Not a completely different person. Just a version of me with a little more freedom, a little more peace, and a front-row seat to the sea.