I Thought I Would Know by Now - By Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan

Written By: Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan

Category: Prose Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan offers a poignant reflection on the twists and turns of life's journey in her prose poetry piece, "I Thought I Would Know by Now," submitted to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. As part of the Creative Writing category, this work delves into the theme of self-discovery amidst the expectations of adulthood. Pagsanjan's narrative invites readers into an exploration of dreams, setbacks, and the evolving understanding of what it means to grow up.

About the Work

In "I Thought I Would Know by Now," Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan eloquently examines the contrast between youthful dreams and adult realities. Through a reflective narrative voice, the piece captures the essence of perseverance and the acceptance of life's uncertainties. Pagsanjan's use of imagery and introspective prose invites readers to ponder their own journeys, encouraging an embrace of the unknown while maintaining faith in the unfolding path.

I Thought I Would Know by Now

Original Submission by Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan

I Thought I Would Know by Now

Written by: Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan

When I was younger, I thought life would be more fun when I grew older.

I thought being an adult meant finally being able to buy the things you liked without asking permission. Going to the places you had only seen on television. Choosing what you wanted for dinner. Maybe even booking a flight just because you wanted to see somewhere new.

I thought growing up meant freedom.

I also thought I would be famous.

I loved performing when I was little. I imagined myself becoming a celebrity, standing in front of a crowd that loved me.

Sometimes, I thought I would become a doctor instead.

Doctors always looked so elegant to me, and I liked the idea of treating people with care.

I had a lot of plans for a little girl.

I would always tell my family that one day, I would buy them the things we didn't have. I wanted them to live comfortably. I wanted to be able to give without having to think twice about whether we could afford it.

And somewhere along the way, I decided that by twenty-five, I would be married.

I would have my own family.

I would have everything figured out.

Except life had other plans.

The dreams I had when I was younger didn't happen the way I imagined they would.

Becoming a doctor wasn't possible. We didn't have enough money to fund that kind of education.

Becoming an actress started to feel like something that wasn't working for me either.

So I kept starting over.

And starting over.

And starting over.

Every time I fell, there was always that question waiting for me:

How is it that nothing seems to be happening in my life after all this hard work?

Why does everything feel so difficult for me when it seems so easy for everyone else?

How do they stay on track with their plans?

How do they seem to know exactly where they're going?

Why can't I?

At twenty-three, I went abroad.

I didn't know it then, but leaving home would introduce me to a different life—one I hadn't planned for, but one that would slowly teach me more about myself.

I had to figure things out on my own.

I had to learn what I could do, what I was capable of, and what kind of life I could build for myself.

It wasn't the life I had imagined when I was younger.

But slowly, it became a life that was mine.

And at twenty-five, I did something that my younger self had always promised my family I would do.

I bought my dad and my family a brand-new van.

I wasn't married.

I didn't have my own family.

I didn't become a doctor.

I wasn't the celebrity I once imagined I would be.

But somehow, through a completely different path, I was able to give my family something I had dreamed of giving them when I was a little girl.

Maybe life wasn't following my plan.

But maybe it was still taking me somewhere.

I just didn't know where yet.

I kept waiting to become the version of myself who knew what she was doing.

But she never arrived.

And maybe that's because she doesn't exist.

Maybe there was never going to be a day when I suddenly woke up and knew exactly what my life was supposed to look like.

At thirty-four, I still don't know what comes next.

Sometimes, I don't even know if there is really a life out there waiting for me that looks anything like the one I once imagined.

And maybe admitting that feels strange.

Because aren't we supposed to know by now?

Aren't we supposed to have something to show for all these years?

Maybe.

Or maybe we are simply supposed to keep living long enough to find out.

Maybe I don't actually need to know.

Maybe I can be okay with the constant changes, as long as they are teaching me something.

Maybe I can be fine not knowing what's next, as long as I am still here to find out.

And maybe I can be a little less afraid of uncertainty because I know one thing I didn't know when I was younger:

I trust God.

I don't always understand His timing.

I don't always understand why some things take longer for me.

I don't always understand why one door closes when I was so sure I was supposed to walk through it.

But I believe His plans are better than mine.

So if twenty-year-old Camhille sat beside me today and asked,

“So... did we figure it out?”

I would probably laugh.

Then I'd tell her,

“No. We didn't.”

And maybe she'd be disappointed.

I'd tell her that sometimes it still feels like we're running out of time. That growing older can make you feel like you should have done more, achieved more, become more.

But I'd tell her something else, too.

It's okay.

Take your sweet time.

You don't have to become everything you imagined at the age you imagined it.

Keep trying.

Keep choosing.

Keep starting again.

Keep trusting God.

Because if the time is right for all those plans to finally align, He will make them happen.

And if they don't happen exactly the way you imagined them—

maybe that doesn't mean your life went wrong.

Maybe it just means you were never meant to live the life you imagined at twenty.

Maybe you're meant to discover another one.

I thought growing older would mean finally knowing what to do.

Instead, it taught me how to keep going without knowing.

And at thirty-four,

I'm still figuring it out.

Maybe that's okay.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates diverse voices and artistic expressions from around the world. This prestigious platform welcomes writers and poets to share their unique perspectives and stories, fostering a global community of creativity and literary exploration. Participants showcase their talents across various categories, contributing to an enriching tapestry of contemporary literature.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Rakhel Camhille Euvhi Pagsanjan for sharing her evocative prose poetry, "I Thought I Would Know by Now," in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her work resonates with the universal experience of navigating life's unpredictable course. We appreciate her contribution and wish her continued inspiration and success in her creative endeavors.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.