You keep waiting for life to start. The bus rides and late-night snacks were it.

There is a quiet belief that the real thing starts later, after the exams, after you move out, once the proper version of your life finally begins. Meanwhile the bus rides and the kitchen at midnight are not the waiting room. They are the material. Memory keeps the ordinary hours you were not paying attention to far better than it keeps the milestones you were aiming at.

Pick one ordinary stretch of this week and actually attend to it. The walk home, the ride to practice, the twenty minutes before anyone else is up. No plan needed, just notice you are in it.