Living in Spain has taught me something strange, yet lovely — mornings don’t have to start with a race. Sometimes, it’s just a toast. Warm, crunchy, slightly golden. Drizzled with olive oil. No avocado, no salmon, no Instagram shoot. Just because it tastes that good.

You know, adulthood isn’t about control — it’s about kindness to yourself. You don’t have to take the trash out first thing in the morning — the world won’t collapse. You can walk by the sea with no makeup — and still feel completely fine. You can drink coffee not to “wake up and be productive,” but simply because the taste makes you happy.

I used to complicate everything. Trying to be smarter, faster, more impressive. Then one day, I sat barefoot on my balcony in pajamas, eating olives straight from the jar, and I thought: maybe I’m already in a good place. Just because I’m alive — and it feels good.

That’s what real joy looks like. You stop chasing, and start noticing. The sun on your skin feels more important than a to-do list. You like your life, even if it’s not perfectly organized. Because it’s yours.