I stopped blogging a few months ago.
At first, it was because I didn’t feel like writing much. Or maybe I didn’t feel like putting something truly mine out into the world. There’s a certain vulnerability that comes with sharing your words, even if no one is reading them. But lately, I’ve been wanting to write again. Not for an audience, not for validation, but for myself.
So, if you’re somehow here, reading this, consider it a quiet update I’m giving to myself, so that future me can look back and see how I was living and thinking in July 2025.
I shifted schools recently.
And surprisingly, I’ve adjusted well. The new environment is refreshing, and I’ve made some really good friends—people who feel like warm cups of tea on a tired evening, people with whom silences aren’t awkward but comforting.
In this process, I learned something: friendship can’t be measured by how long it lasts.
When I was younger, I believed in “best friends forever.” But I’ve realized that “forever” can be heavy and unrealistic, and sometimes, letting go of it makes space for growth. Six months ago, I had different values, different priorities. I was a different person, and it makes sense that the friends I chose then aren’t the friends I would choose now.
Sometimes, I can barely recognize the 13-year-old me in the mirror of my memories. And that’s okay. It’s a strange comfort to know that a few months from now, I might not relate to the version of myself writing this, either. Yet, right now, I’m genuinely happy with who I am, and the people around me are the right people for this chapter of my life.
Life has been a bit hectic.
I’m preparing for that competitive exam (the kind that feels like a mini-boss battle in the game of life). The past month has felt like living in a cycle of study, sleep, and occasional panic. I have an exam tomorrow, and if I’m honest, I feel like I’m in a bit of a rut. But we’re trying, and that counts for something.
Another thing I’ve realized: the things I once felt were “cringe” about myself aren’t actually cringe at all.
There were so many parts of me that I hid away because I was shamed or mocked for them. My humor, my random stand-up gig moments in classrooms, my loud laughter, my habit of exercising daily—things that people once used as reasons to label me “extra” or “try-hard.”
But in this new space, with new people, those same parts of me have been seen and appreciated. Suddenly, people tell me, “Your humor is actually good,” or “Your discipline is inspiring.” And I’ve realized: if I wear my quirks confidently, they can be my biggest strengths, not something to be mocked.
The last time I got a haircut, I hated it. I walked into class with my head down, trying to hide behind my hair, and it didn’t take long before people started making fun of it.
This time, I got the same haircut.
But I walked into class with my head held high, smiling, looking people straight in the eyes, and this time, people complimented me. It wasn’t the haircut that changed; it was how I carried it.
It’s all about how you present yourself to the world.
I’ve been learning, slowly, that growing up isn’t just about academics or exams or the future we’re supposed to build. It’s about learning how to stand a little taller in who we are, to wear our weirdness with pride, to choose ourselves again and again.
So, to whoever might read this someday (including future me):
You are allowed to change. You are allowed to outgrow people, places, and versions of yourself. You are allowed to feel excited about yourself, even if no one else sees it yet. And most importantly, you are allowed to take up space in the world, confidently, as you are.
That’s where I am right now.
And it’s enough.
Yours Truly,
Nikita <3
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