Before 2025 end.....

In the past years, whenever the end of the year was approaching, I already knew what I was genuinely grateful for. But 2025 felt so strange — because apparently, I can’t pinpoint what I’m truly grateful for anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for whatever happens, and I believe there’s always a reason behind everything, but I just can’t feel the genuineness of it. And I don’t know what happened to me.

This year, I faced so many problems — losing my government IDs, and resigning from my job because of my education. I honestly thought I could still make things happen and graduate on time, but apparently, because I wasn’t able to take those major subjects and because of a new curriculum, it’s no longer possible. I became an irregular student, and it hurts — because I sacrificed so much, and still didn’t make it. What hurts even more is that I don’t want anyone to know. I feel like a disappointment, like a failure, and I’m scared that people will see me that way too.

I didn’t live a life that felt pure. I didn’t live this year in a way that I can say I’m proud of. With all the mistakes, choices, and decisions I made, I don’t know how to forgive myself — how to hold myself, how to hug myself, and how to start again. I don’t know how to give myself the compassion I so freely give to others.

And now that 2026 is coming, I’m scared. After this second semester, they will all move on to fourth year, while I’ll still be taking the major subjects I wasn’t able to take. It makes me sad every time I think about it — not because I envy them, but because I’m grieving the version of me who believed she could still catch up, the version who hoped so hard that things would fall into place.

Maybe that’s why gratitude feels distant this year — because I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything fully. I wanted to skip the hurt, hide the shame, silence the disappointment, and act strong. But now I realize — I can’t heal from something I refuse to acknowledge, and I can’t genuinely be grateful when I haven’t been honest with myself first.

2025 wasn’t the year I imagined, but maybe it was the year that quietly taught me the hardest lesson — that starting again doesn’t require perfection, it requires courage. And forgiving myself isn’t something I’ll magically feel, it’s something I’ll have to choose even when it’s difficult.

I’m scared, yes — but maybe this time, fear isn’t a sign to stop. Maybe it’s proof that I still care enough to try again.