Lately, I’ve been sitting with a lot of thoughts. Not in a heavy way, just… aware. The kind of awareness that sneaks in quietly and makes itself at home in your chest. And in that stillness, I’ve started to notice things. About the world. About myself. About what it means to be here, now.
Life has felt different lately. The world has felt different. There’s a shift in the air—one I can’t quite explain. Not necessarily a bad one. Just… different.
And it’s had me thinking. A lot. About life. About myself. About the world. About where I fit in it all—what my purpose is, what I’ve lived through, who I’ve connected with, and how all of that has shaped me.
I’ve changed. I’m okay.
More than that, I’m open now. Aware. I see my flaws, but not in a self-deprecating way. In a learning way. In a loving way. I can see where I’ve played a role in my own pain. I can name it. Understand it. Learn from it.
I was at a photoshoot not too long ago—this project that’s centered around capturing three emotions. One of them was sadness. So, I’m standing there, trying to cry on cue, and I start thinking about all the things that used to break me. All the memories that used to send me into a spiral. And then I realized…
That shit doesn’t move me anymore.
I’ve made peace with what’s happened to me. With what people have done to me. And that feeling—that—is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
Right now, I’m sitting under the sun, in a pretty pink dress, listening to Still Woozy, smoking a joint. Birds are singing (beautifully, I might add). Cars are passing. I’m writing this to you while wading in the spectacular simplicity of just being.
I’m reflecting on my past, soaking in the present, dreaming about my future. All of it feels tied together like a patchwork blanket—stitched with hope, dreams, and rawness.
I’ turned 23 today. 22 was peak. My favorite year by far.The year I finally confronted myself. The year I found love in myself.I learned so much. I let go of so much.
22 felt like spring—a fresh bloom.
Warm. Honest. Alive.
Life is genuinely good.
And no outside noise or personification can convince me otherwise.
I’ve noticed how much I’ve healed. How much I’m still healing. And I’m truly trying—trying to be a better person. To show up for myself. To show up for others. To take accountability. To grow.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is this:
Sometimes, we are the reason we’re unhappy. We cling to toxic patterns. We don’t know when to step away, when to step up. We isolate ourselves. We pour into others more than we pour into ourselves. We mess up. We fall.
But just because we fall doesn’t mean we have to stay down. We can choose better. Be better.
Maybe the world feels different because I am different.
I’m not who I used to be. I’m not bound to my past or my scars.
I am bound to betterment.
To grace.
To love.
To all that messy, beautiful, growing shit.
I don’t know where I go from here. But I know this:
Everything is different. And so I’m here—somewhere between who I was and who I’m becoming. No map. No grand plan. Just presence. Leaning into the quiet, the chaos, the clarity.
Trusting that if everything feels different, maybe it’s because I’m finally becoming who I’m meant to be.
