I met my younger self for coffee today.

His phone buzzed nonstop with texts and calls.
Mine sat face down, silent.

He wore office formals.
I showed up in gym clothes.

He ordered the sweetest drink on the menu.
I sipped a plain black — just a splash of vanilla.

He had already downed two cans of energy drinks and popped a paracetamol.
I was sober.

He could only talk about work.
I listened, knowing he buried himself in it to escape the pain.

He looked at me with high expectations, searching my face for what his life has become.
He smiled, but there was so much pain behind it.

“Did I do it?” he asked.

I told him he did.
That he led with his heart and poured everything he had into helping others see their worth.
That his business was merged with an international player.
That, by his standards, he had made it.
That the Porsche is standing outside.
That he should be proud.

“Should?” he asked.
Of course, he caught that word.

I sat in silence, unsure how to tell him—
That no matter how much he achieved, it would never be enough.
That the thing he clung to was the thing drowning him.
That the people he sought approval from would only take him for granted.
That he wasn’t proving his strength by holding on—
That he would only learn how strong he was when he finally let go.

My heart broke for him.
For the sleepless nights, the silent cries, the way he replayed every conversation.
Every fight, every moment that made him feel unworthy of love.
He worked so hard to drown that voice in his head,
never realizing he was trapped in a cycle,
never seeing how much he was worth.

We sat in silence.
I gathered my thoughts, knowing he would hang on to every word.

And I told him—

“Boy, I am so proud of you.
You don’t know it yet, but one day you’ll be too tired to keep running.
The monsters will catch up.
Your heart will beg you to run again.
Your mind will whisper, just give up.
But you won’t.

Because you are not a runner,
and you are most certainly not a quitter.
You are a fighter.
And you will turn around, ready to fight.

But when you finally face them,
you won’t see monsters at all.
You will see your younger self.

Beaten and broken down,
he will look at you with tears in his eyes and ask,
‘Why were you running from me?’
And you won’t have the heart to tell him
it’s because you thought he wasn’t enough.

Instead, you’ll smile and say,
‘I thought you’d catch up.’
He’ll be hurt—but thankful he finally did.

Then he’ll whisper, ‘Thank you for slowing down.
I was afraid you were going to leave me behind.’
You will look at him deeply,
and at that moment,
you will understand.”

I looked back at my younger self.

He was sipping his coffee vigorously, trying to keep his tears from spilling over.
With a shaky voice, he asked, “I learn to love myself?”

I smiled.
“Yes. And it’s all the love you’ve been chasing this whole time.”