This year did not arrive with fireworks.
It came softly,
in mornings that asked me to wake anyway,
in bus rides where rain blurred the city
and my thoughts followed.
I learned that strength does not always speak.
Sometimes it listens.
Sometimes it stays.
Sometimes it chooses not to explain.
There were days I felt too much
and days I felt not enough.
I carried both.
I learned to place them side by side
without demanding they cancel each other out.
I wrote even when words trembled.
I rested even when guilt whispered.
I set boundaries that felt awkward
and kept kindness that felt essential.
I did not become fearless.
I became steadier.
I did not rush toward happiness.
I walked toward honesty.
This year taught me
that healing is not loud,
that growth can be quiet,
that softness can hold its own weight.
As the year closes,
I am not tying everything neatly.
I am laying it down gently.
What stayed, stayed for a reason.
What left, taught me something.
What remains is enough.
I end this year
not perfected,
not finished,
but present.
And that is how I will begin again.