Fragments of Me in 2025.

2025. What a year.

I’m not usually one to post a recap of my year, but 2025 is not one to be silent about. Sharing this feels as important as writing it, because it might inspire someone now or years from now.

I lived.

I loved.

I laughed.

I cried.

And cried.

It’s crazy how time flies. I don’t think I’ve ever lived fully aware of that fact. Of noticing how much can happen in a day, a week, a month.

A moment is really just that: a moment. There’s never going to be a 28th of December, 2025 again. Ever again.

I understood that deeply in 2025. But did that make me live every moment to its fullest? I don’t think so.

Anyway, I stand in awe of 2025. Of how it broke me and shaped me.

I found God, and at some point, I lost Him. I didn’t see the point anymore. Waking up to talk to Him felt really, really hard. I didn’t have the words, and I felt dumb. How hard must it be to talk to your own Father? You’re such a mess.

Those were the thoughts running through my head, and of course, they only worsened the situation.

After a while, I became fully convinced that God didn’t want to hear me. I knew I was grieving the Holy Spirit. I knew it. Yet, I stayed mute. He nudged me so many times, but the words were nowhere to be found.

I found my way back to Him, though. I mean, how else? Look at me, writing this today, almost teary, and because of who? Yeah. My Father.

2025. What a year.

I lost a friend this year. Not to death.

If this had appeared on a list of things that would happen to me in 2025, I would have denied it outright. No. There had to be another way. We were really close. We were happy too.

But 2025 happened, and the story is different now.

I’d like to believe this was God’s pruning. That we were never meant to remain in each other’s lives, and God wanted us to live apart. That makes more sense to me. It’s how I dealt with it. It has to be God’s pruning. Entertaining any other thought would have driven me mad.

I did entertain other thoughts, though. And yes, mad did I run. Haha.

I still miss my friend so much. There’s a warmth I feel whenever I think about her. She brought so much light into my life, and like I always pray when I think of her, I pray her light never goes dim.

2025, in all its weight.

The year I mistook attention for intention.

This one hurt me in every way possible. I thought it was something deeper, but surprise surprise, it was all surface-level “solid friendship.”

It didn’t make sense at first. How everything came rushing down in an instant. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see it coming. What do you expect from an overthinker?

I really liked this one. I think I still do.

Passenger was right when he said, “You only know your lover when you let her go.” The only difference here is that I’m the “her.” And yes, I did the letting go. What other choice did I have? Cling to his garments? Please.

I had to let go. Of the delusions. The illusions. The flickers of hope and warmth in my chest. Everything. I had to let everything go.

I think the warmth is back, though. Every time I think about him, it returns. And I'm reminded of how much of a light love is.

Light doesn't ask for your permission to shine. It illuminates. It finds its way through cracks and corners, even when you’re not expecting it. So even though I don't expect anything from him, the warmth stays. Not because I hold onto it, but because it was never mine to command.

A vessel could have given it structure. A relationship might have contained it, given it a name, a system. But there wasn't one to begin with. And so the light does what it has always done. It shins anyway.

Whenever I reminisce about this part of my 2025, I’m reminded of my strength and my weaknesses. Especially my strength.

Speaking of weakness, I tried to move through the heartbreak the hard-girl way. Just thug it out. Act like it never happened. Yada yada.

But you know what grief does, right?

It found me in the middle of the street on a Thursday evening. It found me while doing dishes. While trying to write. While eating. While about to sleep.

And then I realized something: there’s no thugging it out. I had to thug it through. Through.

So I made a decision. I chose not to hide from the feelings. I let the pain come. I let the questions come. I let everything in.

I didn’t beat myself up for crying over something that was never even defined.

And that’s where my strength comes in.

After feeling the feelings, I found it hard to recognize myself. I know that sounds crazy, but sit with me for a second. This version of me was calmer, softer, and if I’m honest, firmer.

I actually thugged it through. I did it.

I could listen to our shared playlist again without wondering where or how it went wrong. My friends say I’m a clown for that, but it’s a big deal to me. Not flinching at the sight of that playlist name? What a testimony.

I stopped rereading old messages. I stripped away every form of sentiment attached to it. It made me feel lighter. And look who stopped thinking about it. Yeah. Me.

2025, phew. What a year.

I love how heartbreak brings out parts of us we never knew existed. Some people hit the gym. Some read more books.

Me? I regained my curiosity.

Well, it was always there. But the discord awakened something fresh: a desire to understand how seemingly different things connect. How they merge. How they come alive.

One example is law and psychology. I asked so many questions. I researched. I checked if it was a recognized field. I created a nine-year board plan for my life, assuming I intensified my research and took it seriously.

I did a lot.

And I’m proud of myself.

Twenty twenty-five. Again, what a year.

The year I made consistency my third name.

I told myself I was going to keep my Duolingo streak going, and I actually did. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t easy. Not at all. There were days I didn’t want to say a single word of Spanish. Days I couldn’t care less about moving to the next league.

But I said yes to it from day one, and I had to stay true to my yes.

Interestingly, I had a school interview recently, and I was asked, “How committed are you as an individual?” I said, “I believe I’m quite committed. For instance, I’ve maintained a daily Duolingo streak for over 750 days.”

She looked amused. And honestly, it was a pure headswell moment. I got in, by the way.

Thank you, 2025, for teaching me how to keep showing up. So many things could have stopped me, but consistency won.

2025. The year I truly understood duality.

Me and you.

Shadow and light.

Clarity and confusion.

Life and death.

Sadness and happiness.

Sickness and health.

Good and bad.

Strength and vulnerability.

Order and chaos.

Love and loss.

It sounds basic, but this year made it real. I learned that you have to experience one to understand the other.

It changed how I handle situations. I know now that however I’m feeling, another truth exists alongside it. I can be sad and still know happiness exists. And only by feeling sadness can I truly understand joy.

It’s a touchy subject for some, I know. But I’m proud of how it reshaped my worldview. It’s an amazing feeling.

Twenty. Twenty. Five.

The year I truly understood friendship.

If you know me well, you know I talk a lot about nurturing friendships and being intentional. But 2025 made me pay the actual price of friendship.

And that price is inconvenience.

You hold conversations when you don’t feel like it. You take walks when you’d rather stay home. You help settle situations even when you’re tired or unavailable.

This isn’t about neglecting yourself or forcing availability. But if you truly love the people you call friends, you will be inconvenienced. Just a bit. Relax.

I don’t romanticize stress. In fact, even saying those words stresses me out. But this felt different.

I said yes to things I’d normally say no to. I watched my friends do the same for me. And I’m endlessly grateful.

Thank you, 2025.

2025.

The year I brushed up against the edge of myself, moe like disappearing inward.

This is sensitive for me because I forgot duality for a moment and sat in emptiness. I questioned everything. Existence. Meaning. Purpose. Why we wake up and keep going. Why you’re reading this. Why you're on your phone. Why you even have a phone, to begin with.

Sitting with these questions for too long does something to you. It strips things down until meaning feels thin, almost optional.

They say ignorance is bliss, and I think it truly can be. Exposure to too much, seeing too much, knowing too much, fueled that part of my curiosity. Ignorance can be bliss, but good riddance to bliss. This is the curse of too much information: endless questions. You either answer them, or you learn how to move through life without answers.

It's one of those too. Simple.

2025.

The year I connected deeply with music.

I spent a large part of the year listening, creating, editing playlists, discovering, rediscovering, and undiscovering songs.

I cannot tell my 2025 story without music.

From Hillsong Worship to Vance Joy.

From Dunsin Oyekan to Kaestrings.

From Brymo to AnEndlessOcean.

From Bastille to Hans Zimmer.

From Chance Peña to Asake.

From Jon Bellion to NF.

The list is endless.

To music, I say thank you. For holding me. For staying. For being present.

---

To you who’s reading this:

maybe your 2025 wasn’t gentle. Maybe it was confusing, loud, quiet, unfinished, or just heavy in ways you still can’t name. But you’re here. You paused long enough to read this. And that already means something.

Maybe you struggled with faith this year. Or maybe you stayed consistent with something small, even when it felt pointless. Maybe curiosity found you in unexpected places. Maybe you lost someone without losing them to death. Maybe love didn’t stay, but it still touched you.

Maybe you felt two opposite things at once. Strong and tired. Hopeful and unsure. Present and distant.

Wherever you are in all of this, you’re allowed to feel it. All of it. The clarity and the confusion. The joy and the grief.

And if you’re reading this years after 2025, I hope you remember this moment. That you were once here, feeling deeply, still open, still becoming.

Live. Love. Laugh. Cry.

Feel everything. Shirk nothing.

You’re not late. You’re not behind. You’re just here. And for now, that’s enough.

---

It’s impossible to fit everything that happened this year into one post. And maybe that alone tells you how much this year held.

There are things I wish I’d written differently. Things I wish I’d added. But I’ll give myself grace.

Thank you, 2025.

For teaching me.

For holding me.

For letting me grow.