An End-of-Year Note 📝
Musings for the end of 2024.
I have at least three drafts I wanted to send before the end of the year.
One was my favs of 2024.
Another was about traditions and things I do to start every year right. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work most of the time.
Another was about being plagued by COVID at the end of the year.
But I couldn’t bring myself to finish any of them.
They didn’t seem reflective of what I’m thinking right now.
I am not a fan of parties on New Year’s Eve. I told my friend Katrina yesterday that celebrating and getting drunk on New Year’s Eve didn’t speak to me. I genuinely believe December 31 should be left to reflect on the last year and think about the year to come. I’ve already reflected on the previous year, and I’ve been thinking about it for the last few days.
I’ve made multiple decisions this year—some questionable, some serious, some thoroughly evaluated, and others that didn’t significantly impact my life. In my mind, I envision a long road with various paths and crossroads I’ve chosen, as well as those still ahead. I also see myself splitting into two versions: one that follows the route I’ve decided on and a parallel version that takes the alternate path. I can’t help but wonder: How would my life have turned out if I had made different decisions?
Some may think I’m crazy, but I believe that parallel universes are created with every decision we make. There are thousands of parallel universes where we exist, each leading a different life based on the choices we’ve made. The timeline we inhabit was formed by our own decisions, and we can’t blame anyone else for it. Although some of my choices haven’t been the best, I’ve learned from them and have become better at decision-making over time.
Hundreds of versions of Little Moi have emerged this year: the One who breaks up, the One who quits, the One who moves away, the One who becomes a ghost, and the One who dies. I could keep listing them. However, there's one important lesson I've learned this year: Dwelling on the past or on what could have been doesn’t help. We need to let go in order to move forward.
Yesterday, I spent the day with my best friend, Chloé, who is in town for the holidays. After a spin class, we stopped at September Café for lunch. Chloé spotted a TikTok influencer getting out of a car and waiting in line for coffee. The influencer was accompanied by their partner. They ordered a single coffee to go—her partner didn’t get anything—and then exited the café. For about 10 minutes, the partner took pictures while the influencer posed in front of the windows. They didn’t even stay in the neighbourhood; they returned to their car.
For some reason, this saddened me. Here I was, enjoying a grilled cheese sandwich with soup alongside my friend while watching someone who was preparing a highlight reel of their life online, a life that isn’t even real. I couldn’t help but wonder if their full face of makeup was specifically done for that moment—a moment crafted for an audience rather than one they genuinely experienced.
(Ok, I can see you asking yourself where I’m going with this and what it has to do with 2025, but we’re getting there...)
It’s funny because moments later, while I was trying on a top at Kotn, I told Chloé that it gave me a “book slut" vibe. She laughed hard. I realized that I was doing the same thing—curating a persona for myself to showcase to everyone, hoping to appear as if I have a cool life. In reality, my life has its share of ups and downs, along with concerns and anxieties that won’t be displayed on social media.
But, I thrive on being authentic and genuine to myself. That makes my writing better and my relationships with others more raw and honest. My authenticity may create a sense of chaos. I compare myself to a rough draft of a novel; I know I’ll never be perfect. I’ll probably be stained with coffee marks, red ink striking through paragraphs, and repeated attempts to improve the work—a draft filled with doodles in the margins, random sketches, notes to remember, and phone numbers scribbled throughout the pages.
And so, I’ll be genuine for the sake of the exercise.
I have not yet made any list for 2025.
I have not decided what I want to focus on.
I will probably not manifest anything.
I’ll continue with my life as it is, choosing a path at each crossroads, creating parallel timelines, parallel universes in which other versions of moi exist. And in this timeline, which I’m writing to you right now, I’ll focus on now.
This authentic moment we are living together: You, the reader, and moi, the writer.
I want to tell you that it’s okay if you don’t feel like making a list today, tomorrow, or ever. It’s okay to not have goals this year. And you can totally stay home tonight. I know I will.
It’s okay to unfollow people. I just did so a couple of days ago. It’s okay if you don’t want to share. It’s okay if you ask people not to take pictures of you. It’s okay not to want to live over your means. It’s okay to stain your shirt while eating soup. It’s okay to share your life with everyone. It’s okay to overshare and undershare. It’s okay to be who you are as you want to be.
I know I want, in 2025, to be a Thirty-something-thirty-peaking-clumsy-book-slut on a path to become a Spin Queen. I will continue listening to Taylor Swift when I need a pick-me-up, and I’ll probably make a 2025 Bingo, an In-and-Out list for 2025, and do a vision board. But I know what I want to share and who I want to be —my most authentic self. And I won’t hide anymore.
On that note, I wish you a happy beginning of 2025. I hope to connect more with you next year, dearest reader. Your presence means the world to me, and I sincerely hope you’ll continue to join me on this journey despite my occasional clumsiness or inconsistencies.
On se revoit très bientôt,
xo