August

This post is late on purpose. I wanted to let August settle before I wrote about it. August has meant everything to me, bittersweet in so many ways. Still, I can say this: I love August. I feel like I lived a whole year inside just these past few weeks.

This is my 9th post in a row. Fourteen weeks of showing up, every 30th, without fail. I’m proud of that. Honestly, I’m delighted I’ve managed to keep this promise to myself. I didn’t think I had that kind of discipline in me. Now, I want to keep writing until the very last 30th of 2025.

These past weeks have taught me something important: we don’t “find” time, we make it. I learned that if I really love something, I can carve out space for it. Writing has always been my escape, but now it has also become something I look forward to every month. I know some of you come back here on the 30th—I see it. I don’t usually check numbers or stats, but I notice the little spikes. That means the world to me. Thank you for being here. Writing is how I show love, and if you’ve ever received long birthday wishes or letters from me, it means you’re someone I deeply treasure. This small corner of the internet has been growing with me, and I’m grateful for it.

I don’t know what I’ll write on the next 30th, but I hope it will mean something to many. I don’t write for attention. I write to connect, to tell the truth, to leave something real behind. Sometimes it’s scary because I share pieces of myself that I usually keep hidden. But if I held back, it wouldn’t be me anymore.

Starting this is still the best thing I’ve done for myself. I hope it grows into something lasting and meaningful—not just for me, but for everyone who has been kind enough to read along.

Like most things, time makes it better. Once I started letting go of what I couldn’t control, life felt lighter. This weekend is a long one with the Friday holiday, and I needed this break more than anything after months of nonstop weekends. It was rough, and I was drained.

I used this weekend to truly rest and recharge. I’ve always been a homebody, happiest when I can just be, without needing to go anywhere or do much. So this week, I let myself slow down and take the rest I needed.

The good thing about long breaks is that eventually, you reach a point where you feel ready to get back to work. By next Monday, I know I’ll be ready to be productive again.

Anyway, there’s a question that’s been on my mind: Do you ever feel regret? And if you do, how do you deal with it? Where do all those heavy feelings end up?

I know I once said I wouldn’t walk away until I tried every option, just so I could be sure I gave it my all. That way, when I finally let go, I’d have little to regret. But the truth is, regret and fear are still with me every day. No matter how much I try to rationalize it, I still look back at certain choices and wish I’d done them differently. 

Because I know in the past, there must have been parts of me that hurt people. I was selfish in ways I didn’t realize at the time, and though deep inside those choices broke me too, I can’t deny the harm they caused. I wish I had known better and done better. But I was just human—figuring out life for the first time like everyone else. Even so, I can’t help replaying those memories, and it hurts to admit how wrong some of my actions were.

It’s taken a lot to accept that I can’t change the past. I can only learn from it. People say your brain fully develops at 25, and I think I’m finally starting to feel what that means.

If you’ve felt this too, I’d love to know how you carry your own regrets.

I’ll stop here for now. Till then, when I find something else to write, this will do.