The LAST note of 2025

I may not have earned much this year in financial terms, but I did earn friendships, memories, and people who showed me parts of life I didn’t know I was missing, along with parts of myself I didn’t know I still carried, and some I’m not very proud of.

I sought too many answers and cracked quite a few many cuz I had a shitload of questions. And even though I still live with uncertainty (surprise), I’ve learned to sit with it. I need the gaps. I need the unknown. I don’t need to have everything figured out. I do feel fear sometimes and yes, that’s apparently okay too.

Some days I felt completely lost, quietly wondering what the heck was really going on with me. I still notice the smallest things and feel how little I truly understand. And when answers came, they were usually simple. Not dramatic. Just simple.

I’ve realized that different people see me in very different ways. Some think I’m loud, some think I’m arrogant, some think I’m sad. Almost everyone sees me as very privileged and they’re not wrong. I am, just not always in the ways they assume.

Until last year, I cared deeply about being understood. I still think it’s a beautiful feeling, you know. But I’ve learned that people are often busy managing their own lives, their own stories and occasionally their own heads. So sometimes what you say doesn’t really land, not because it makes no sense, but because everyone is already full.
Expecting to always be understood can be heavy. So I’ve learned that it’s okay to end days with disagreement and let it be. Peace doesn’t always come from agreement. Sometimes you just move forward.

To me, traveling has never been about ticking places off a list. Going somewhere only matters if something inside me shifts too. Sometimes the inner changes feel bigger than the miles crossed. And now, when I travel, every outward journey , with all the incredible stories ( and the amazing people) I listen to, seems to become an inward one as well.

Living alone for the last few many years has changed me in quiet ways. I’ve grown close to ordinary, non-living things, especially my ride partner, Ollie, filling them with meaning and life too. I still feel that you haven’t really traveled enough until you’ve cried inside your helmet. So, I can safely say I did. It might look strange from the outside, but it feels honest to me.

One thing I do regret is not being able to read and write as much as I wanted. My job kept me occupied, and sometimes I was simply slothy. I couldn’t give it the time it deserved. Still, I see it as a phase I’m moving through. This new year, I feel a real pull to return to it, to make space for it again, because it matters to me more than I’ve probably admitted to myself.

This year may not look loud from the outside, but it changed me in slow, permanent ways.

And for that, I’m grateful.