Entre hier et demain
between yesterday and tomorrow.
Dear Me,
I find you somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow, lost in the in-between, floating between memory and anticipation. Entre hier et demain (between yesterday and tomorrow), you exist in a space that is neither fully here nor completely there. You linger in the past, wrapping yourself in the warmth of childhood’s familiar light, yet you peek into the future, wondering if the air is any easier to breathe there. You feel the weight of nostalgia pressing against your chest, like the scent of old books in a quiet library or the distant echo of childhood laughter carried by the wind. It lingers, wrapping around you like a well-worn sweater, both comforting and bittersweet. At the same time, anxiety tugs at the corners of your mind, like an insistent whisper in the dark or a storm brewing just beyond the horizon, pulling you forward into an unknown landscape. It is a delicate balance, a dance between sentimentality and apprehension.
Do you remember being seven, lying on the living room floor, watching Harry Potter on repeat? You thought growing up meant freedom, that twenty was some magical number where the world would make sense. And yet, here you are, vingt-trois ans (twenty-three years old), and the world is still just as confusing, just as uncertain. As a child, confusion meant not understanding a math problem or being unsure of what to say in a conversation. Now, it means questioning your place in the world, grappling with responsibilities, and wondering if you are on the right path. Uncertainty is no longer about what game to play next but about the daunting unpredictability of the future and the weight of choices that shape your life. The only difference is that now, you know you are not the only one who feels this way. The weight of expectations—yours, society’s, those of the people who raised you—has settled on your shoulders, and you are learning that adulthood is not about having all the answers but about learning how to exist within the questions.
You keep one foot in nostalgia, reliving lessons, old laughter, and fears. But is it not exhausting, living half-rooted in a world that no longer exists? Hier a déjà été écrit (yesterday has already been written), sealed in the pages of time. You can read it over and over, but it will not change. Entre hier et demain (between yesterday and tomorrow), the past whispers to you, tempting you with the illusion that it can be revisited. But nostalgia is a mirage, an image distorted by longing and selective memory—like remembering only the golden glow of summer afternoons while forgetting the restless boredom, or recalling the comfort of childhood bedtime stories while overlooking the fears that kept you awake at night. You recall the warmth, the comfort, the innocence of childhood, yet you forget the moments of uncertainty, the growing pains, the small heartbreaks that were just as real as the joy. The past is not a place you can return to; it is a museum, and you are merely a visitor—wandering its halls, observing its artifacts, learning from its displays. You may pause at certain exhibits, linger over memories frozen in time, or even feel the urge to reach out and touch what is behind the glass. But no matter how vivid the recollection, you are still just a guest, passing through, unable to alter what has already been curated by time.
And then there’s demain (tomorrow), waiting just beyond the horizon, untouched and terrifying—a vast unknown filled with uncertainty, the weight of responsibilities yet to come, and the pressure of expectations that seem impossible to meet. You search for certainty, for control, for a guarantee that bonheur (happiness) will land on you at the right time. But bonheur does not operate on a schedule. It is not something to be measured or predicted. It arrives unannounced, in fleeting moments—un rire spontané (a spontaneous laugh), the quiet of a winter morning, une chanson familière (a familiar song) playing unexpectedly. It is never where you expect it to be, but always where it is meant to be. You fear tomorrow because it is unknown, but the truth is, tomorrow is merely aujourd’hui (today), waiting to unfold. Entre hier et demain (between yesterday and tomorrow), the future looms large, filled with expectation and possibility, but it cannot be lived until it becomes the present.
So where does that leave you? Where do you go when hier (yesterday) pulls you back, and demain (tomorrow) looms too large?
The answer, though you resist it, is ici (here). Maintenant (now). Not in the memories that play like a favorite song on repeat. Not in the daydreams of what may come. But in this moment, as it is—imperfect, unpredictable, yours. You have spent so much time running, either toward the past or away from the future, that you forget to simply exist. And yet, existence is all you truly have.
I know it is hard to let go. I know it feels like betrayal to move forward. But you are not losing anything by living aujourd’hui (today). You are simply making space for more yesterdays to cherish. You cannot hold onto every version of yourself—seven-year-old you, thirteen-year-old you, the person you were last week. They have all played their parts, and they live on within you, woven into the fabric of who you are now. Entre hier et demain (between yesterday and tomorrow), you carry them with you, not as weights, but as reminders that you are constantly evolving. To embrace change is not to erase the past but to honor it by moving forward.
Respire (breathe). Feel the air in your lungs. Acknowledge the ground beneath your feet. Listen to the world as it moves around you, as you move within it. There is beauty in this moment, in the simple act of being. There is no rush. You do not need to have everything figured out today. Life is not a series of milestones to be checked off, but a collection of moments, woven together into something uniquely yours. The pressure to succeed, to become, to achieve, can make it difficult to appreciate the act of simply being. But being is enough.
It is an inevitable, fundamental truth that time does not stop; it moves forward in ceaseless momentum, indifferent to human resistance. And yet, you are not simply at its mercy. You have agency in how you engage with time’s passage. You can either be a passive spectator, longing for a yesterday that has permanently departed, or anxiously anticipating a tomorrow that has yet to arrive. Or you can choose presence, to immerse yourself in the now, to shape your reality rather than be shaped by it.
It is tempting to define happiness as something that is always just out of reach—a goal, a milestone, an achievement. But happiness is not a trophy waiting at the finish line of a race you have yet to complete. It is not hidden behind a door that only opens once you have gathered enough keys of accomplishment. Happiness is not contingent upon the fulfillment of external conditions but is embedded in the essence of the present. Bonheur (happiness) is not some distant point on a timeline but rather a collection of instances, layered into the fabric of daily existence. It is found in the laughter shared over an inside joke, in the warmth of sunlight on your face, in the quiet assurance that you are alive, here, now.
If you continue to treat happiness as something to be attained in the future, you will never truly hold it in your grasp. For every ambition realized, every dream achieved, there will always be another goal just beyond your reach. And so, you must redefine your perception of fulfillment. It is not in what is to come, but in what already is.
To exist in the present is an act of courage because it requires accepting uncertainty, relinquishing control over the past and future, and embracing the unknown with an open heart.
Entre hier et demain (between yesterday and tomorrow), let aujourd’hui (today) exist. Let yourself exist. And, most importantly, let yourself live.
Avec amour (with love),
Mukta<3
I am not French and I have used all the knowledge I had of the language (I learnt it during lockdown), so do forgive if there are any mistakes (there should not be).
All the pictures are credited to Pinterest.
Bye lovelies.
Song of choice for the evening,
Stunning piece of art 💐💐😁