There’s a certain heaviness to the word almost.
It follows you like a shadow that’s always just a step ahead.
Almost ready.
Almost there.
Almost enough.

I’ve lived a lifetime of almosts.
Almost became a Hollywood actor.
Almost became a world DJ.
Almost became… well, a dozen different versions of myself.

But lately I keep asking: almost what?

For years, I thought “almost” meant unfinished. Like I was stuck in a loop of preparation, collecting skills, experiences, and proof that I was capable. I told myself I was waiting for the right moment. The right opportunity. The right “yes.”

But somewhere in that waiting, I started to realize I wasn’t waiting for the world’s permission.
I was waiting for my own.

Maybe that’s the trap, when “getting ready” becomes a lifestyle.
When your entire identity is built on the next thing instead of the now.

In college, I think I subconsciously learned how to live in that space.
I changed majors so many times it looked like indecision, but it was something else. I loved learning too much to stop. Each new field felt like a fresh window, until I understood it, and then I’d move on. Not because I was lost, but because I was curious.

It became a pattern.
I’d fall in love with something, dive all the way in, and once the mystery was gone… I’d drift.
It took me years to see that for what it was, not weakness, not distraction, but immersion.

I don’t skim life.
I submerge.

And when I surface, it’s never the same ocean again.

I used to think that made me scattered.
Now I think it makes me adaptable.
Because in a world that keeps shifting, being a jack of all trades isn’t a curse.
It’s survival.

AI, art, storytelling, education, I’ve learned to blend them all, and somewhere between them, I found something that feels like me.

So what does “arrival” even mean now?
It’s not the role.
It’s not the paycheck.
It’s not applause.

It’s the moment you finally release the shackles of expectation, your own and everyone else’s.
It’s realizing that your place in this vast, turning machine we call life isn’t fixed.
Sometimes you’re a moving part.
Sometimes you’re the support that keeps the rest from falling apart.
And sometimes, you just need to pause long enough to see that both matter.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not about money or milestones.
It’s about intention.

Good will bring good.
Bad will bring bad.
And you’d be surprised what can happen when your intention is simply… epic.

Maybe that’s what “almost” really was all along.
A rehearsal for the life I was already living.