There’s a strange comfort in knowing everything around us is temporary. Moments fade. People change. Even the emotions that once felt carved into our bones eventually loosen their grip. And yet, somewhere inside that constant motion, we quietly hope - maybe something will stay. Maybe someone will stay.
Let’s be honest: the world today moves too fast for anything to feel permanent. Friendships shift with seasons, relationships get replaced by convenience, and attention spans barely stretch beyond a few seconds.
We all pretend we’re fine with it, that we’re modern and detached and above emotional dependency. But deep down, everyone is looking for at least one feeling that doesn’t evaporate the moment reality shakes a little.
Maybe that’s why the rare people who make us pause feel like magic. They don’t arrive with fireworks or dramatic revelations. They just show up - and somehow stay long enough to make your heart rearrange its furniture. They become the quiet constant in a life that refuses to slow down.
And yes, it’s terrifying. Because when you finally meet someone who makes you feel understood without performing, safe without pretending, suddenly the world’s temporary nature feels unfair. You start asking questions you never cared about before:
How long will this last? Will they be the one who chooses me even on the days I don’t feel worth choosing?
But here’s the uncomfortable truth - your perpetual feeling isn’t defined by promises of “forever.” Forever is a romantic word, not a guarantee. The real permanence is found in consistency, not eternity.
It’s in the person who listens even when you ramble, who stays even when you’re difficult, who sees your flaws and doesn’t flinch. Someone whose presence doesn’t demand perfection, only honesty.
Maybe your perpetual feeling isn’t one grand soulmate. Maybe it’s the quiet warmth of being understood. The peace you feel when someone remembers the small things about you. The rare moments where you’re not performing for the world, but simply being, and someone still chooses to stay.
And if you haven’t met such a person yet, don’t rush. Temporary people teach you what permanence should feel like. They clarify your standards. They sharpen your intuition. They make you realize that the feeling you’re searching for isn’t flashy - it’s steady. It’s soft. It’s patient. And when it arrives, you won’t have to chase it.
Because in a world full of temporary things, your perpetual feeling won’t be the loudest one.
It will be the one that remains after the noise fades.
The one you don’t have to question.
The one that feels like home - even when nothing else does.
And when you finally find it, you’ll understand: permanence was never about time. It was always about connection.