There is so much going on in the world. The oblivion everyone’s been talking about for years—the famous quote we know like the back of our hand from The Fault in Our Stars, the one we treat like it’s distant or poetic—is happening. It’s real. It’s here. It’s now.
Whether you believe in facts, the universe, the Bible, or birth charts—yes, even the United States has one—however you make meaning of existence, this moment is unavoidable. To ignore it is a choice. And my question is: why the fuck aren’t we living how we want to live?
Why aren’t we being who we want to be?
Why are we staying in patterns that don’t serve us, in relationships—romantic, familial, all of it—that don’t help anyone in the long run? Why aren’t we saying sorry when it matters? Why aren’t we getting back the things that matter to us?
Instead, we talk endlessly about stupid shit. And sure, it means something—but it also means nothing at all. Because time is still moving. And for the time we do have, why aren’t we filling it with things that bring real joy, real passion, real fury in all the good ways?
Why are we staying friends with people who don’t like us—or who we don’t even like? Why are we five years deep in relationships with people we don’t love or trust? Why are we staying in jobs that don’t value our work ethic?
For what?
You can say, Yeah, Bria, but there are bills to pay. There’s fear.
Fuck that. Ditch it. Fuck the fear.
What about the fear factor? Remember Nerve (2016?)—that’s what life needs to feel like to me. That level of aliveness. That’s the baseline for me being okay with the life I’m living.
I’m content. Truly. I could die right now and be happy with the life I’ve lived.
But why would I stop there?
Why aim for “fine” when we could be ecstatic? Why settle for borderline happy? Think bigger, bitch. Why aren’t we doing that?
I am.
2026 is going to be the biggest year of Bri ever. Ever. A hootin’ of a time. I’m excited for the love, the loss, the heartbreak, the joy, the triumphs, the struggles—all of it. I’m ready. I want to see what the next movie is about.
I loved 2025. Every part of it. Every single part. And I want my next year to fully encompass that—because most of this year, I’ve been sick.
Even if I’m sick next year, I’m still making the best of my days. When I’m in bed. When I can’t move. When I’m in the hospital. When I’m literally dying. I don’t care. I’ll pull from the Cancer Bri Playbook and live large. Living like Larry. Living lavish.
And I don’t mean material things.
I hope you do that too.
And just so you know—because time doesn’t really exist—I’m not waiting for January 1st. I’m already in my next chapter.
Maybe you are too.
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