Dear Self,
I attended Mitz’s college graduation today, and I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic.
How quickly time moves.
Jen, Jea, and Mitz are growing fast—and that must mean I am, too.
It’s been almost four years since I finished college. I remember how numb I felt back then, how I just wanted it all to end. I wanted to escape.
We thought life would be easier after graduation.
That we’d land better jobs.
That we’d finally be financially free.
But we were wrong.
We’re closer to thirty now than we are to twenty.
We’re growing older.
I once imagined that my mid-twenties self would be financially independent, accomplished—certain. But now, I don’t even know what I want anymore.
And yet…
Sitting there at the graduation, I realized something. I have accomplished things since then—quiet, small wins I never bothered to celebrate. I convinced myself my life was stagnant simply because I overlooked the steps I’ve taken.
I know there were days you didn’t think you’d make it.
Days when the questions were louder than your courage.
When you compared your beginning to someone else’s middle and felt like you were falling behind.
But look at you now.
You chose to keep going.
Not because it was easy, but because something in you—quiet and stubborn—believed in more.
You showed up, even when you were scared.
You kept writing, even when the words felt small.
You kept dreaming, even when the path wasn’t clear.
I see the late nights. The journal pages.
The overthinking, the tears, the prayers.
I see the tiny decisions that changed everything—
choosing growth over comfort,
choosing faith over fear,
choosing you.
You’ve grown in ways you used to pray for.
Not just in your writing, but in your heart.
You’ve learned to set boundaries,
to protect your peace,
to celebrate the small wins no one else sees.
You’ve turned your pain into purpose,
your silence into stories,
your scars into strength.
Self, I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you back then.
Please know that I am proud of who we’re becoming—
proud of how far we’ve come.
This little internet nook we’ve created for ourselves—this writing alcove we’ve built—matters. Every word is a step forward. One day, we’ll gather creative souls here: readers, writers, dreamers.
You still have dreams, and that’s beautiful.
But now, you walk with more trust,
more patience, more love for yourself.
You’re not who you were,
and that’s your quiet victory.
Keep going, self.
The best chapters are still ahead—
and I can’t wait to read them, written by you.
And one day, we’ll understand that this version of us is not lost—it’s leading us exactly to who we were always meant to become.
All my love,
Joy Clarice