Journal Entry 002
February 17, 2025
January was the kind of month that reminds me why I love this life—why I keep chasing experiences and why I keep putting myself out there. It felt like I finally shook off whatever fog had been hanging over me these past few months.
I told myself at the start of the year: I’m ready. I want to be seen. I want to show up in the world as myself. And I did.
It was beautiful and it was grounding.
For months before this, I had this weird feeling of disconnect—like I was constantly resetting, like I had to reinvent myself every time I stepped into a new phase of life. Maybe it was the new year, maybe it was the months of stillness after so much movement, but I kept feeling like I had to start over instead of just keep going.
But now I see it differently. Life isn’t about scrapping everything and rebuilding from the ground up every time you shift. It’s a relay race—each season hands the baton to the next. Growth leads into grinding, grinding leads into rest, rest leads into renewal. Just because I’m in a different season now doesn’t mean the last one wasn’t real. It doesn’t mean I lost anything.
I still have my people. I still have love around me. And that realization feels like a deep breath after holding it in for too long.
Journal Entry 001
August 29, 2024
I’m back in Vegas.
It still feels strange to say that. For a year, Austin was home. I built a life there—routine, friendships, favorite spots, late-night drives. And now, just like that, I’m back where I started.
Leaving was harder than I expected and it hits me in waves—the last time I walked through my house, the final drives down streets that had become so familiar, the way the city felt different knowing I was seeing it for the last time as a local. I can already feel nostalgia creeping in, trying to romanticize what I had, but I know that’s just how memories works. The good moments shine brighter when they are behind you like you’re driving away from a sunset.
I am not here to get stuck in the past. I came back because something in me needed to. I’ve spent so much time chasing experiences, pushing forward, trying to find a version of myself that feels fully realized. And maybe that’s still the goal. But right now, I feel this pull to look back—to understand where I came from, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. What shaped me? Why do I move the way I do in this world? Why do I love the things I love, and fear the things that I fear?
I think being here, in the place that built me, will help answer those questions.
There’s a part of me that feels like I’m searching for something I can’t quite name. A place inside myself that feels still and peaceful—my own Hundred Acre Wood. Not a physical space, but a feeling. A knowing. Maybe I’ve been looking for it in cities, in people, in work, when really, it’s something I have to build inside myself.
I don’t have all the answers yet. But for the first time in a long time, I’m okay with that.