Not Everything Has to Be Timeless
Or, some things are just meant to shine for a short time
We’ve got this weird idea that “forever” is the gold standard for success. If something doesn’t last forever, well, it’s obviously a failure, right? Like, if your coffee shop doesn’t survive 50 years of relentless rent hikes and skyrocketing almond milk prices, it wasn’t really worth the effort. If it closes after a few good years of serving delicious lattes and building a community, the story somehow gets tagged as a failure.
But… wait a minute. Is it a failure? Just because something doesn’t go on forever, does that make it any less worthwhile? Think about it—when someone walked into that shop, grabbed that coffee, and smiled at the person sitting next to them (without making it weird), there was real joy in that moment. And that’s not a failure, no matter how short-lived. It existed, it brought people together, and it mattered while it was there.
The same goes for creative work. How many times do we measure the worth of something by its shelf life? You spend years painting, each brushstroke infused with a piece of yourself. Maybe you paint dozens and dozens of a sunset (much like how Monet painted the same haystacks 25 times), so perfectly captured that every time someone sees them, they remember a warm, peaceful moment in their own life. But then one day, you stop painting. Maybe the passion fades, or life pulls you in a different direction.
And then what? People might dismiss it as a “phase,” or even suggest it wasn’t worth doing because it didn’t last. But that’s not fair. The sunsets you painted were meaningful, in that moment. Just because you moved on doesn’t mean they lost their power or beauty. The worth wasn’t in the length of time it existed, but in the impact it made.
Even friendships—oh, especially friendships—get caught in this trap.
We often judge their value based on how long they last. A friendship from childhood that fizzles out as you both grow older? That’s somehow less valuable because it didn’t last through adulthood? Nonsense. It mattered then. It shaped you, it gave you something, and that’s what counts.
I think we’ve mistakenly convinced ourselves that success is this tree that’s meant to grow and grow, unbothered by seasons, always stretching towards the sky. But in reality, not everything is meant to grow like that.
In reality, (some) things are meant to be like flowers—delicate, beautiful, and fleeting. They don’t bloom for long, but during that time, they light up the world around them. Does that mean they weren’t worth admiring? Not for a second.
Maybe the real lesson is that forever shouldn’t be the goal.
Not everything needs to endure, and that’s okay. Sometimes, things are meant to have a moment—a brief, shining moment. Friendships fade, books get forgotten, ideas evolve. But that doesn’t erase the meaning they held when they were alive and vibrant.
I like of think of it like a campfire. It burns bright for a while, providing warmth, light, and a sense of comfort to those sitting around for a picnic. But eventually, the flames flicker and die down. And when the fire goes out, do we stand there and say, “That was a failure”? Of course not. We remember the cosiness, the laughter, the shared stories around it. We don’t mourn its end—we appreciate the light it gave while it was burning.
Some things are just meant to shine for a short time, and that’s perfectly fine. Let’s stop treating impermanence as failure. Let’s appreciate the beauty of things that live fully, if only for a moment. Because sometimes, that’s all they need to do.
Some news.
I’ve been writing short stories for the past 8 months or so, and it’s been a pretty fun journey. I’ve written enough now that I feel it’s time to start sharing them. If you’re curious, or just enjoy a good story, feel free to sign up. There’s already a bunch of stories posted for you to check out. No pressure, just a bit of writing I’m excited to share.
I do not write with a plan, nor do I follow any strict genre. A story comes when it pleases, shaped by memory, mood, or a sudden whim.
Writing, for me, is a way of making sense of things, of conversing with the past, and sometimes, simply of passing the time. If you find some enjoyment in these tales, then we are both rewarded.