January always comes with new year resolutions…
New goals. New aesthetics. New versions of ourselves that we’re supposed to unveil like finished art pieces. But if I’m honest, I didn’t enter this year feeling brand new. I entered it feeling aware.
Aware of how much last year stretched me.
Aware of how many times I almost went quiet.
Aware of how easy it is to pretend we’re fine because everyone else seems to be moving fast.
And maybe that’s why this year doesn’t feel like a restart.
It feels like a return.
A return to questions instead of answers.
A return to softness in a hard world.
This space was never about having it all together. It was about telling the truth when we didn’t. About writing through confusion, love, doubt, healing, and becoming. About admitting that sometimes we believe deeply… and other times we’re just trying not to lose ourselves.
This year, I want to talk more honestly.
About love that teaches instead of saves.
About faith that breathes instead of suffocates.
About money, identity, purpose, and the quiet fear of not doing life “right.”
About being young and thoughtful in a world that rewards noise.
So this year, we’ll write about the things we whisper to our friends at night. The questions we ask God in private. The relationships that shaped us. The selves we’re unlearning. The hope we’re choosing, even when it feels fragile.
If you’re staying, welcome.
If you’re returning, I’m glad you found your way back.
If this is your first time here — you came at the right time.
Let’s go deeper.
Beautiful write up