when it’s time to have fun, i’m working

i choose the grind.

while others laugh on weekend nights, go on spontaneous trips, or binge-watch shows till sunrise, i sit at my desk. focused. building. planning. i tell myself, “work now, have fun later.” discipline over impulse. long-term over short-term. i repeat it like a mantra.

and it works – on paper. i hit goals. grow faster than most. my finances are stable, and my days are structured. i’m doing everything right.

but when “later” finally arrives, something feels off.

i look around, ready to enjoy the freedom i worked so hard for. but everyone else? they’re busy now. tied to jobs, deadlines, routines. some are chasing promotions, some are just… exhausted. the same people who once had time for late-night drives or lazy sunday afternoons are now ghosts in group chats.

i finally have the time and space for fun, but i can’t find anyone to share it with.

it’s a strange emptiness. not because i’m alone – but because i feel out of sync. like i show up to a party hours late. the music still plays, the lights are still on, but no one’s there anymore. i waited too long.

and in that silence, a question grows louder: was it worth it?

i don’t regret working hard. i’m proud of my discipline. but i start to see that joy isn’t something you store in a savings account and cash out later. it doesn’t always wait. some fun is time-sensitive. some moments are tied to a phase of life – a vibe, a mood, a crowd. and maybe when that window closes, no amount of money or success can recreate it.

still, i remind myself – this might just be a phase. i’m in my mid-twenties. everyone’s building, proving, climbing. maybe in another five or six years, things realign. people hit milestones, find stability, and suddenly, there’s space again – for dinners that stretch into midnight, for spontaneous plans, for laughter that doesn’t have a meeting the next morning.

balance is a skill. i’m still learning.

now, i’m trying to live more in the present. to say yes more often. to do things even if i have to do them alone. because maybe joy doesn’t always need a crowd – maybe it just needs intention.

the grind still matters. the discipline stays. but i no longer postpone every sunset, every random plan, every burst of laughter just because “later” might be better.

because if later feels like this – quiet, misaligned, a little too late – then i’d rather live now.