1st January 2026
You were happy once-
Today is January 1st, 2026the first breath of a year that hasn't yet decided what kind of story it wants to be. And maybe that's the beauty of it. It's blank, unmarked, waiting. We didn't ring it in with fireworks or countdowns or champagne toasts beneath glittering lights. No, we welcomed it by doing… nothing. Just existing. Breathing. Feeling. And somehow, that felt like enough.
Because the truth is, celebration doesn't always look like confetti. Sometimes it looks like lying in bed at 3 a.m., staring at the ceiling, allowing yourself to feel everythingthe joy, the ache, the quiet hum of being alive. We celebrated by surviving another year. Not perfectly, not gracefullybut we made it. And for some, that was the greatest victory of all.
This new year arrived wrapped in contradictions. Happiness tangled with grief. Hope shadowed by memory. Love stitched beside loneliness. We're happy because it's new, because possibility still pulses in the air like static before a storm. But we're also sad, carrying the weight of those who didn't cross this threshold with us. To the souls who left this world in 2025 peacefully or painfully, quietly or suddenlyyou are not forgotten. You mattered. Your laughter, your silence, your presence, your absencethey all echo in the spaces we now walk through alone. Rest in peace, gentle hearts. May the universe hold you softly.
I wanted to preach something wise today. Maybe quote of someone or recite a passage about mindfulness. Talk about detachment, inner peace, finding joy in simplicitymonk stuff, you know? But then I remembered: I'm not a monk. I'm just a person. Messy, tired, trying, failing, laughing at dumb memes, crying in the shower, eating snacks at 2 a.m., forgetting to reply to texts, sleeping through alarms, whispering "I'm okay" when I'm not. And that's okay.
Because the real magic isn't in perfectionit's in authenticity. In being you, exactly as you are right now. Not the polished LinkedIn version. Not the filtered Instagram highlight. Not the "I've-got-it-all-together" facade we wear to class or work or family dinners. But the real youthe one who's tired but still trying, broken but still kind, lost but still curious. That version deserves love. From others, yesbut especially from yourself.
So here's my wish for you, and for me, and for everyone reading this in their dimly lit room or crowded subway or under open stars: Be you. Not the version you think the world wants. Not the version you should be. Just you. With your weird laugh, your irrational fears, your favorite hoodie, your quiet dreams that you're too scared to say out loud. Be that person. Protect that person. Nurture that person.
And while you're at itmake someone else's day a little brighter. Not in grand, performative ways, but in small, human ones. A "good morning" text to someone who's been feeling invisible. Letting someone go ahead of you in line. Sharing your umbrella. Listeningreally listeningwhen someone speaks, instead of just waiting for your turn to talk. These tiny acts are lifelines. You never know who's clinging to the edge, waiting for a hand that never comes… or the one that does.
Also survive the Monday mornings. Oh, how I dread them. The alarm blaring too soon. The weight of obligation pressing down before your feet even hit the floor. The mental load of tasks, expectations, roles you didn't ask for. But even Mondays can be survived. One breath at a time. One cup of coffee. One step. You don't have to conquer the dayjust show up for it. Even if you're barely holding on. Even if you cry in the bathroom stall. Even if all you do is exist. That's still victory.
To everyone on this planetand yes, even to any curious beings beyond Earth, watching us from distant galaxiesyou are worthy of joy. Not because you've achieved something spectacular, but simply because you are. Your existence is enough. Your effort is enough. Your messy, imperfect, beautiful presence in this chaotic world matters.
The year ahead will have storms. It always does. There will be days when the darkness feels heavier than your bones can carry. But there will also be moments of unexpected grace: a stranger's smile, a song that understands your soul, sunlight through your window at just the right angle. Hold onto those. Collect them like seashells. They'll keep you going.
So here we arestanding on the edge of 2026, hearts cracked open by everything we've lost and everything we still dare to hope for. Let's not promise to "be better" this year. Let's promise to be kinderto ourselves and to each other. Let's promise to rest when we need to. To say "no" without guilt. To ask for help without shame. To forgive ourselves for being human.
Happy New Year, not because everything is perfectbut because we're still here, still trying, still loving in our own flawed, persistent ways.
I love you all. Not in a dramatic, cinematic waybut in the quiet, steady way that says: I see you. I'm with you. We're in this together.
Now go eat something good. Text someone you miss. Watch the sky change color. And remember: even on the hardest days, you're not alone.
Happy 2026, fellow travelers. Let's be gentle. Let's be real. Let's survive and maybe, just maybe thrive.
- so can you be again ☆