26/08/2026
๐๐ข๐ญ๐๐ซ๐๐ซ๐ฒ || ๐๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ: ๐๐๐ฒ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฌ๐ฌ ๐๐๐ง๐
โRalph Jan Palmes
There is genuine happiness in seeing other people succeed in life, especially knowing how much they've sacrificed for itโthe sleepless nights, the tears, the prayers, the failures they had to face, and the countless times they probably wanted to give up but chose to continue anyway.
But sometimes, a feeling of melancholy joy starts to crawl throughout the body, sinking deep into the soul. Somehow, the success of others becomes a mirror that reflects our own limitations or unreached potential. It triggers that bittersweet whisper we know all too well: "Sana all."
It is just a simple phrase but sometimes it carries more weight than we admit it. Then you start asking yourself "What about me?"
This emotion is like standing outside a brightly lit, warm restaurant in the freezing rain, watching people laugh and eat a grand feast through a spotless glass window. When we say "sana all," we aren't wishing the fire inside would die out; we are simply recognizing how beautiful the warmth is while feeling the bite of our own cold reality. The glass is perfectly clear, so you can see the joy in vivid detail, allowing you to appreciate just how beautiful the feast is. But the moment you reach out to touch it, your fingertips hit a cold, solid barrier. You are close enough to see it, but entirely locked out. Sometimes that's how other people's success feels like.
Their achievements become a reflection of everything we have not achieved yet. Their milestones remind us of the dreams we are still chasing. And their victories can make us question whether we are moving fast enough.
But a glass window works both ways. It is not just a barrier that keeps you out; it is a lens that shows you what is possible. The same thing that makes you feel excluded can also give you a glimpse of what you can become.
The warmth inside that restaurant exists because someone once built the fire.
The people inside did not simply wake up one morning and find themselves there. Before they have a seat at the table, they probably had their own nights of doubt. They probably wondered if their efforts would ever be enough. Maybe the same people also stood outside someone else's window once, looking in and thinking, "Sana All." We just don't see that part of their story. We only see the light.
Seeing their success does not mean your seat at the table is denied; it is simply proof that the destination is real. The place we are trying to reach actually exists.
Instead of turning away in despair, let the light from their window illuminate your own path in the dark. We may not be inside yet, but that doesn't mean we will never get there. So keep walking, even when the rain does not stop. Even when it feels like everyone else is already warm while you are still trying to find your way. Your sleepless nights are not wasted. Your failures are not meaningless. Even the moments when you quietly asked yourself if you were good enough are not in vain. Perhaps all of these things are slowly becoming the bricks of the warm room you're building for yourself.
And maybe, someday, you'll finally open that door. Someone else will be standing outside in the cold, looking through the window. They will see the light, the warmth, and the life you worked so hard to build.
They might whisper "Sana All". This time, you will understand exactly what they mean. And maybe without knowing it, your light may help them find the hope to keep moving forward, too.
