Another year circles the sun. Another candle flickers, casting a dancing shadow on the wall. If birthdays are supposed to come with a sense of triumphant arrival, then I'm definitely missing the memo. This year, like the last few, feels less like a victory lap and more like…well, a slightly frantic jog through a dense fog. Confusion, that old familiar friend, is back. I'm a year older, sure, but am I any wiser? Am I closer to "figuring it all out"? Honestly? Not really.

This is perhaps the unique struggle of being young(ish), isn't it? You are still in that liminal space, too young for the full weight of adult obligation, but no longer afforded the gentle forgiveness of youth. The world throws its expectations at you - career paths, life goals, meaningful relationships, and the unspoken pressure to have it all together. It's enough to make you want to crawl back under the covers and declare a permanent state of hibernation.

And yet… amid the murk, there's a flicker. A feeling, deep down, that's difficult to explain. It's the reason I keep writing, keep creating, keep pushing forward despite the bewilderment. I call it "chasing the light.” It's not some grand, complicated philosophy, not a high-minded quest for enlightenment. For me, chasing the light is simply about finding myself amidst the turbulence. It's about recognizing my own spark, that internal compass that guides me even when external forces feel overwhelming.

This past year has been… complicated. And the year before that. And honestly, the ones before that weren't exactly a walk in the park either. There's the external noise - the chaos of global events, the pressure to perform, the constant comparison game played out on social media. But there's also the internal static - the insecurities, the self-doubt, the fear of not being enough. It's a heavy weight, and some days, it threatens to pull me under. That's when finding my light, nurturing that inner beacon, feels less like a nice-to-have and more like a vital lifeline. It's the thing that keeps me afloat. It's the reason I believe I can survive, even thrive.