“I Want to Smile Today”
The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock hanging on the pale blue wall. It was one of those evenings when the world outside was busy with its own rhythm, but inside, everything felt still. I sat by the window, looking at the fading sunlight slipping quietly behind the horizon, as if it too had grown tired of the day’s burdens. I took a deep breath, and for a fleeting second, I tried to remember the last time I truly smiled — not the polite, mechanical smile I wore for others, but the one that came from somewhere deep within. The kind of smile that used to brighten my whole world.
Life has not been unfair, I often tell myself. I come from a middle-class family, where dreams were always larger than our pockets but never smaller than our hearts. My parents did everything they could to give me a life better than their own. They sacrificed, struggled, and smiled through the pain, teaching me the quiet art of resilience. I grew up believing that hard work could fix anything — poverty, pain, or destiny. And for a while, I thought I had done it. Ten years in the IT profession, a stable income, a comfortable flat, a decent car — life looked balanced on the surface. But somewhere along the way, the peace that once defined my evenings disappeared.
When I was younger, I thought peace was something you earned once you achieved success. But now, I know peace is not found in your salary, nor in your apartment or gadgets. It’s found in the warmth of people, the laughter shared over a cup of tea, and the comfort of knowing that someone truly understands you. But today, that peace seems far away.
The financial struggles that once kept me awake at night have lessened, yet the sleeplessness remains. It’s not about money anymore; it’s about everything else. Family problems that come like uninvited guests, staying longer than you expect. Business problems that hang around your neck like invisible chains. The feeling that you are constantly solving one crisis while another quietly waits in line. Some days it’s arguments at home, other days it’s unexpected office pressure. And amidst all this, my dreams — the ones I once carried like fire in my heart — have turned into quiet whispers I rarely listen to.
There was a time I wanted to start something of my own. A little business, maybe something creative. I wanted to travel, to write, to learn photography, to chase sunsets and stories. But life, in its own quiet way, rearranged my priorities. Responsibilities took over, bills piled up, and the dreamer in me learned to sit silently at the backseat. I often find myself in guilt — not because I didn’t try, but because I allowed the noise of survival to silence the music of my dreams.
Sometimes I wonder, is it selfish to want happiness for yourself? To want to smile, even when life demands seriousness? Today was one of those days when I needed a reason to smile. Not a big one — just a small reason, a gentle spark. I wanted to meet my best friends, the ones who always managed to lift me up without saying much. The ones who laughed at my terrible jokes, who could read my silence like a book. But today, everyone was busy — caught up in their own circles of life, their own commitments, their own little storms. I don’t blame them; I understand. We’re all fighting our own battles. Still, I missed them — missed that feeling of belonging, that shared madness that made everything lighter.
I scrolled through my phone, looking at our old pictures. There we were — laughing at a roadside tea stall, taking selfies on trips we couldn’t really afford but somehow managed to enjoy. Those were the days when smiles came easily, when we didn’t need reasons to be happy. We were broke, but our hearts were full. Today, I have more than I ever did back then — but my heart feels heavier.
I remember one evening years ago. I was sitting at the same window, broke and worried about my job. My best friend, Mehul, called and said, “Aye, let’s go for chai. Life can wait for half an hour.” That half hour turned into a night full of laughter, long drives, and stupid songs played loudly from the car stereo. We had no money in our wallets but we had time for each other. Today, I have enough money to buy anything I want, but not enough time to sit for that one cup of chai with a friend.
Life changes silently. People grow, responsibilities multiply, and friendships — once the center of our world — begin to revolve on the outer circles. We meet less, talk less, but somehow the bond stays. I know that even if I call Mehul or Sneha or Parth after months, they’ll still listen, still care. But today, I didn’t want to call. I just wanted to see them — to sit beside them, to hear their laughter, to forget the world for a while.
The clock ticked louder. The city lights began to blink like fireflies on concrete walls. I picked up my guitar, the one I hadn’t touched in months. I strummed a few strings, awkwardly at first. The sound was off, just like my mood. But slowly, as the strings began to find their rhythm, so did my thoughts. Music, I realised, was my oldest friend — the one that never left, never got busy, never judged. It just waited patiently in the corner of my room, ready to heal whenever I was ready to feel.
As I played, memories came rushing back — childhood, dreams, heartbreaks, laughter, failures — all blending into one long melody of life. Maybe I didn’t have everything I wanted, but I had lived, really lived, through every shade of emotion. And perhaps, that itself was something to smile about.
The world outside continued in its own pace — cars honking, people hurrying, life moving. Inside, I sat with my thoughts, letting them breathe. The guilt of unfulfilled dreams was still there, but a little lighter. Maybe dreams are not always meant to be achieved; some are meant to keep you moving, to keep hope alive. Maybe peace isn’t the absence of problems, but the acceptance that problems will always exist, and yet you can still smile.
I looked at my reflection in the window — tired eyes, unshaved face, a faint smile slowly forming. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. I realised something — the face I was waiting to see all day, the one that could make me smile, wasn’t of a friend, or a person. It was my own. The one I had forgotten to look at with kindness.
We often search for happiness in others — in conversations, relationships, success — forgetting that sometimes, happiness is sitting quietly within us, waiting for us to acknowledge it. My friends may be busy today, but their memories were enough to remind me that I’m not alone. My family problems may continue, but they don’t define my peace. My dreams may take longer, but they’re not gone. And I — I still have the strength to begin again, to hope again, to smile again.
The night grew deeper, but my heart felt lighter. I put my guitar aside, turned off the lights, and stood by the window once more. The moon shone softly, like an old friend saying, “You did well today.” I smiled — not because life had changed, but because I had.
Yes, I still have problems. Yes, the world is still messy. But tonight, I found a small piece of peace within myself. And maybe tomorrow, when I wake up, I’ll find a bigger one.
Because sometimes, all it takes to start healing is one simple wish whispered to yourself—
“I want to smile today.”
