What gives me inner peace and helps the rest of the world disappear isn’t always the same craft, activity, or action. Some things come and go constantly or always stay. Others come and go and might never come back. I find that to be quite normal considering how large the world is and all the different things we have yet to discover and enjoy. Not all activities offer the same peace, but they brought me a moment of happiness all the same.
My most common activity that I doubt will ever go away is reading. My favorite genres are all fiction and I enjoy romances the most. Paranormal, fantasy, contemporary, sci-fi, M/M, reverse harem, and more. What’s interesting with books is that because there are so many options of genres, authors, stories, and plots you will never run out of finding something to enjoy, even when you grow out of certain genres and move to new interests. As a teen, I enjoyed Young Adult novels. But as I grew older, they no longer help much interest, though that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with age, as I know many middle-aged women who love Young Adult books. I find the idea of books evolving by your side through age and experiences to be almost magical. You can grow out of or become bored of certain tropes and plots without ever having to leave the activity of reading at all. You can simply move to different types of stories, as there are endless options to choose from.
Reading, especially fiction, gives me the opportunity to leave the real world and enter a fantasy that gives me peace and happiness while I'm in it. Humans are a creative bunch, and though there isn’t much more left to make completely original, authors still manage to make each book a new, exciting, and enjoyable experience. Reading has gotten me through the rough times in life. I wouldn’t call it completely healthy, considering it helps me ignore the outside world that shouldn’t always be ignored. But, I still place reading as an important coping mechanism for many others and me. It works, and is a much healthier outlet than other vices. I follow many book Facebook pages and I often find posts of members asking for book recommendations to cheer them up or have a plot similar to something going on in their lives, which gives them a shard of hope they can also have a happy ending. I simply enjoy getting out of my head for however long the book grants me. The most recent upheaval in my life involved the death of my father. Though not young, he was not old enough to die at his time of death. And I was too young – yet not the youth of underage – to lose my father when there are still so many memories and experiences we could have shared left. Books helped me through my grief, helped me keep my head above the water, kept me from swimming in sorrow and heartbreak. I grieved, and then I would read, giving me a moment of peace that didn’t involve crying my eyes out. I would grieve, and then read again, giving me a chance to take a breath of fresh air without the tinge of sadness that had encompassed my life. I grieve still, but no longer does it swallow me to the point of being almost lost. Now I can handle my grief without reading to give me a moment’s peace. It's hard to let yourself sit in your heartache, because the longer you sit in it, the harder it will be to swim to the surface, to find your happy self again. Reading kept me floating without sinking too far into the depths of misery where it’d be questionable I'd ever surface again, ever have the chance to be saved.
Though I thoroughly enjoy reading and consider it an amazing hobby, it offers much more than simple enjoyment. It can save lives, it brings happiness, and it helps create imagination and creativity in a world that doesn’t put much importance on the arts any more. Everyone has a story within them, not always exciting, not always happy. It's refreshing to read someone else’s story for a change. It gives the reader hope that they’ll have better days, or it gives them a moment of peace in the chaos of their lives. Reading is a dependable companion that grows and evolves with our personal experiences, interests, and lives. A partner that you’ll never grow tired of because there’s always something new to learn about them. An activity you can't help but love when it gives you exactly what you need in your moment of weakness. I won't ever give it up, and I encourage others to find the types of books that give them the peace reading gives me. Don’t give up, there are books out there for everyone, you
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When It's Useful
It's been six years now. Or roughly six years, considering no ones making any new calendars and it’s a bit difficult to keep track of time when the worlds ended and you're trying to survive. It’s been a long six years though. Long, hard, and painful six years.
By Hannah Coltson 5 years ago in Fiction
“The Man Who Never Missed a Day”
When I was 17, I met a man who delivered newspapers in the rain. Not in a casual, half-hearted way—but fully committed, every single morning. He would leave his house before sunrise, his coat soaked, shoes falling apart, and the wind cutting through him like a knife. Yet, despite the cold and wet, he smiled at everyone on his route. To a teenager like me, it was both confusing and inspiring. I remember the first time I saw him struggle with a bundle of papers that seemed almost too heavy for him. He slipped on the wet pavement, muttered something under his breath, and kept walking. When he reached the next house, he knocked on the door, handed over the paper, and smiled as the door closed. That smile was strange to me—it wasn’t pride or satisfaction, it was… calm. Almost peaceful. Curious, I approached him one morning. “Why don’t you take a day off when it’s so hard?” I asked, shivering in my hoodie as the rain soaked me through. He laughed, a deep, gravelly sound that didn’t sound annoyed, only knowing. “Son, nobody cares about today,” he said, shaking his head. “What matters is tomorrow. You build your life the same way: one small effort, every day, even when nobody notices.” At the time, I didn’t understand. My life felt urgent, like it had to explode with success immediately. I was chasing big ideas, jumping from project to project, leaving most half-finished. I thought motivation was everything—without the spark of inspiration, nothing mattered. The idea of showing up every single day, even when tired, even when bored, even when invisible, felt almost insane. I watched him for weeks. Rain or shine, he was there. I started noticing small details I hadn’t seen before—the careful folding of the papers, the way he adjusted his wet coat to protect the bundle, the extra minute he took to smile at a child running out to grab the paper. Every morning, the same ritual. Every morning, the same effort. And yet, nobody cheered. Nobody noticed. Years passed. I went to college, chasing my own “big dreams,” my own versions of instant success. I started businesses, abandoned them; learned new skills, stopped halfway; made promises to myself I couldn’t keep. I told myself I was working toward greatness, but mostly, I was chasing the idea of success, not the work itself. Motivation was my fuel, and when it ran out, I stopped moving. Meanwhile, the memory of that man stayed with me. The quiet diligence, the smile in the pouring rain. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he had already taught me the most important lesson: consistency matters more than talent, and persistence matters more than inspiration. Years later, I found myself struggling. A career path crumbled beneath me, a relationship ended badly, and my confidence had hit rock bottom. I remembered the man with the newspapers. I thought about how small, invisible efforts can be the hardest to trust—because results are not immediate, and recognition is not guaranteed. Yet, he had shown me that those small efforts accumulate, slowly but inevitably, into a life that cannot be ignored. I started experimenting with this principle myself. Every morning, I wrote 500 words for my stories—even when tired, even when uninspired. I practiced my skills quietly, without posting or sharing. I did the work not for applause, but because it mattered to the person I wanted to become. Some days, it felt like nothing was happening. Some days, I wanted to give up. But then I remembered the man with the newspapers, and I kept showing up. It didn’t take long before I started noticing changes. The words I wrote flowed better, ideas connected in ways they never had before. People began noticing my work. Small victories became more frequent, and my confidence started to rebuild. What had seemed like meaningless, invisible effort had quietly transformed my life. That man never became famous. He never went viral. He had no thousands of followers, no awards, no recognition. But every paper he delivered, every smile he shared, every step he took in the rain—it all mattered. Each day of consistent effort built a life he owned completely, a life he could be proud of. I realized then that success is not a moment. It is not a sudden flash of recognition or a single lucky opportunity. Success is the sum of the quiet, consistent decisions we make when no one is watching. It’s the choice to wake up when it’s easier to sleep. It’s the decision to work when it’s easier to scroll on your phone. It’s the effort we put in when the world doesn’t applaud. And the truth is simple: showing up every day is more powerful than talent, motivation, or luck. Talent fades. Motivation fluctuates. But showing up—every single day, rain or shine—creates results you cannot imagine. Just like the man in the rain, your efforts may not be recognized immediately. People may overlook them, circumstances may feel unfair, progress may seem invisible. But over time, the cumulative effect of your daily effort will speak for itself. One day, the world will notice. One day, your consistency will transform your life. So, start today. Don’t wait for motivation. Don’t wait for inspiration. Show up. Every day. One small effort. One action. One step at a time. Let your grind be louder than your excuses. Because the man who never missed a day wasn’t special. He was ordinary. But through persistence, he became unstoppable. And so can you.
By Ihtisham Ulhaqa day ago in Motivation
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