I’m still in Orlando.
The bags I packed are still in the corner of the room. The hotel keycard is still on the nightstand. My half-finished iced coffee from this morning is still sitting by the window, condensation dripping slowly down the plastic. I came here for a short trip, maybe a weekend — but somehow, I haven’t left.
It’s not that I’m stuck, exactly. It’s that Orlando pulled me in with something I didn’t expect.
At first, it was just another stop on the calendar. A place filled with tourists, roller coasters, and overpriced bottled water. I thought I’d do what everyone does here: hit the theme parks, take the classic pictures, maybe grab a souvenir or two. But it turns out, Orlando is more than its attractions. More than Mouse ears and fireworks. It has a rhythm, a charm, and a sense of stillness underneath all the movement.
And maybe… I needed that.
Escaping Without Realizing It
When I first booked the trip, I told myself it was for fun. Just a break. A little getaway. But now that I’ve been here longer than I planned, I realize I was escaping more than I admitted. Work had piled up. My emotions had tangled. My heart had taken a few hits recently, the kind you don’t tell your friends about because you haven’t fully processed them yourself.
I thought a few nights away would be enough to reset. But Orlando, with its odd combination of fantasy and familiarity, ended up giving me space to unravel everything I’d pushed aside.
I’m still here because for the first time in a while, I can breathe.
Unexpected Comforts
There’s a café on the corner of East Central Boulevard — the kind of place with chipped mugs and handwritten menus — where I’ve found myself every morning. The barista, a girl with a shaved head and the kindest eyes, knows my order now. She doesn’t ask questions. Just smiles and slides my coffee across the counter like we’ve been friends forever.
The weather here is moody. Rain at 3 p.m. like clockwork, then sunsets that spill gold and lavender across the sky. I sit outside and watch the people pass by — tourists clutching maps, kids licking melting ice cream, couples arguing over where to eat. I like the feeling of being a quiet observer in someone else’s story.
Somehow, that’s helped me reflect on my own.
The Parks, and Something More
Yes, I went to the theme parks. I screamed on roller coasters. I ate giant pretzels shaped like cartoons. I even wore a ridiculous hat and took a selfie that made my sister laugh for five full minutes.
But the magic of Orlando didn’t come from the fireworks or the fairytales. It came from the little things.
The woman who offered me sunscreen in line without saying a word.
The way a little boy gave his balloon to his crying sister with a gentle “here, take mine.”
The elderly couple slow dancing to street music just outside Universal’s gates.
Moments that didn’t make it into brochures, but stayed with me all the same.
Conversations with Strangers
One night, I found myself at a small rooftop bar downtown. The music was soft, the lights were warm, and the crowd was calm. I sat alone, sipping something with too much lime, when a man about my age asked if he could share the table. He wasn’t hitting on me — just didn’t want to sit alone either.
We ended up talking for three hours. About everything and nothing. About how hard it is to know what you want at 30. About his recent divorce. About how I still don’t know if I’m following my dreams or avoiding my fears.
He told me Orlando wasn’t just a place for kids and theme parks. He called it “a weird city with a healing soul.” I think he was right.
Slowing Down
Back home, my schedule rules everything. There are alarms, reminders, meetings, obligations. Every hour accounted for, every day filled with noise.
But here? Time is different. I wake up when I feel like it. I walk without a destination. I stop at random bookstores and smile at dogs I don’t know. I don’t feel rushed. I don’t feel watched. I just am.
It’s incredible how healing it can be to do nothing. To let go of productivity and just exist.
Maybe I’m Healing
I didn’t realize how much I needed to just feel.
To let sadness have its place without trying to fix it.
To remember what makes me smile, even when no one is looking.
To be in a place where no one expects anything of me.
I’m still in Orlando because I’m still putting myself back together.
I didn’t know this trip would become a turning point. I didn’t know I’d find clarity in the middle of this humid, tourist-filled city. But here I am.
Maybe I’ll go home tomorrow. Maybe next week. Or maybe I’ll stay until I no longer need to.
Postcards I’ll Never Send
I’ve bought a few postcards from the gift shop. I wrote messages on the back but never sent them.
- “I’m learning to be okay again.”
- “This city isn’t what I expected — it’s better.”
- “If you’re ever lost, come to a place where no one knows your name.”
- “I’m still here. And maybe that’s enough for now.”
Until I’m Ready
People keep asking when I’m coming back. I say, “Soon.”
But the truth is, I don’t know. Orlando has become a pause in my life I didn’t realize I needed.
I’m still in Orlando.
And for the first time in a long time… I don’t mind staying still.
