Last Christmas and a New Year

I have written this in advance, unlike the future, and yet very similar to this week. When this goes live, I will be in Kerala. I want my blog to be posted every single day, and I will make sure it happens, written and scheduled with intent. After a considerably long gap, I am resuming again. Compared to my previous blog, which was posted daily without fail, this pause feels like a quiet disappointment. Still, never mind. A new year is a head start, and this is a beginning all over again.

2025 was another year I do not cherish much. Watching it pass felt painful, almost as if I was standing still while time moved through me. The moments, the intentions, and the weight of this year were as hard hitting as they could be. It was exhausting in ways that are difficult to explain, not dramatic, just deeply heavy and persistent.

Toward the end of the year, I started trying to rebuild whatever remains of who I am. I began walking, running, and chasing things that offer no monetary benefit. To be honest, nothing really gives me any monetary benefit anyway. I am reading more. I am wasting time deliberately, but in the right way, the way humans were meant to waste it. Slowly, without apology.

Another year is over, and here I am, still writing for the fondness of it. Writing itself feels like a big thing again. Many of my resolutions will not be fulfilled the way they should be, because as I mentioned, I will be with friends in Kerala, and those days are rarely compatible with resolutions. Yet, I look forward to 2026 just as much as I looked forward to 2025, 2024, 2023, and all the years before, unchanged, and from the same fallen place of my existence.

There is a strange happiness in new beginnings, even when every part of your consciousness tells you it will be like every year before. Still, I remain hopeful. I will see you again with more scheduled posts. The fascinating part about scheduled writing is this certainty. These words will be posted, whether you live or die.