I didn’t have it all figured out,
but I kept walking anyway.
Some days I wandered,
others; I ran toward things
that didn’t always stay.

I met people who stayed for a season,
laughed in places I couldn’t pronounce,
got lost,
and somehow; found pieces of myself
in coffeeshops and streets,
even in silent rooms
where I sat with my thoughts.

I learned
not just from books,
but from heartbreaks,
quiet kindness,
and questions without answers.

I collected memories
like messages I never published.
Some drafted.
Some still written.

And still,
I keep moving
not chasing the finish line,
just turning the page
to whatever
comes next.