Still Typing...

There’s a version of me that’s absolutely brilliant.

He lives about 12 hours in the future.

He has perfect comebacks. He knows exactly what to say in the moment. He speaks fluently in witty retorts, poetic truths, and emotionally balanced honesty.

Unfortunately, that guy never shows up on time.

Instead, I’m the person who nods during a conversation, walks away, eats dinner, goes to bed, stares at the ceiling—and then thinks,

“I should’ve said, ‘Well, not all who wander are lost, Greg.’”

But of course by then, Greg is long gone. And so is the moment.

Ever send a text and stare at the typing bubble for a beat too long?

Wondering if you’re saying too much, or too little, or too weird, or too earnest?

Ever start typing… then delete it… then start again with “haha” so it sounds less like you care?

And then just don’t hit send at all?

Yeah.

Me too.

There are whole conversations I’ve had entirely in my head while pretending to listen to someone else’s story about a countertop remodel.

Whole emails I wrote, revised, and never sent—because the longer I typed, the less clear I became.

Sometimes I think my entire emotional life could be summarized as:

“Still typing…”

But here’s the twist:

Maybe it’s okay that brilliance is delayed.

Maybe the right thing to say isn't always meant to land in real time.

Maybe some lines were never meant to be delivered—they were just meant to be understood… eventually.

I’ve come to accept that my best thoughts often show up after the credits roll.

That doesn’t make them any less true.

It just means I’m the kind of person who needs to walk through a moment before I can make sense of it.

So if you’ve ever wished you said something better… sooner…

If you’ve ever left a conversation and thought,

"Ugh, I was 83% there but lost it at the end…”

Just know:

You’re not alone.

Your timing isn’t broken.

You’re just still typing.

—Everett

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