Wednesday, March 19, 2025

 309

To my love on this special monthly anniversary day, when things were at their darkness and I didn’t feel like I could wake up the next day. 


Five years later, we are back home in a better place. A lot of it is behind me now, with only small flare-ups from time to time. Those fade. Life has indeed gone on. Thank you for enduring it with me. Thank you for being there as I got to the other side. 

Wednesday, February 19, 2025

 308

Happy monthly anniversary. The snow is melting, the cold is retreating. It's no longer a perpetual darkness. I want to believe this growing light means something good is going to be break for me soon regarding work, but that's magical thinking. Thank you for supporting me as my journey through the desert continues. It;s more reassuring than you can imagine. I love you.

Sunday, January 19, 2025

307

Happy monthly anniversary. From the coldest time of the year, when the grass, walls, and sidewalks are layered with frost if they don’t get direct sunlight. It is quiet and cold. We are on the verge of a new world along with a new year. I hope I always make you happy. I hope I can find my footing this year. 

Thursday, December 19, 2024

 306

The year comes to finally meet its expiration date.

For this month, I want to reflect on this year of pain, of almost-yes, of me being in the desert, of me being up and down because I was stupid enough to make my industry my identity. If there's one victory this year, it's that I finally cleaved myself from the industry in which I sometimes work. I am grateful you gave me enough space to see it at last. I think I had a little more of Europe to work through. 

At least the year will be behind us. At least we can visit family soon and have good distractions. After this year, with its losses and heartbreaks, we deserve it.

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

 305

To my love, know that I’m turning on the heat on to make sure our home is warm when you come home. It’s the darkening of the year, where the sun vanishes in Seattle for months and you get that cutting rain that feels colder than freezing. At least we are sheltered and at peace. Thank you for being kind and supportive as I get close to the finish line again, but then… no. You’ve been supportive, even when I don’t remember as I fret about the future.