New year, new you?

That saying is definitely overused. Objectively, the 1st of January is no different from any other day in the year — it just has a superior label, somehow marking "the beginning of new beginnings," "the tunnel to something new." But when the clock strikes midnight, and the fireworks illuminate the sky, I can’t help but feel the weight of a fresh start. Maybe it’s not about the day itself but rather what it represents: possibility, reflection, and the subtle hope that maybe, just maybe, this year will be different.

As I step into 2025, I find myself caught between nostalgia and anticipation. This is my final year of high school, the culmination of everything I’ve worked towards. It’s daunting. It’s exhilarating. It’s a strange limbo where every moment feels like both an ending and a beginning. People talk about New Year’s resolutions, about becoming a "better" version of themselves. But for me, this year isn’t about reinvention — it’s about embracing the person I’ve been growing into all along.

I think back to who I was in past years. The girl who spent hours at the piano, fingers dancing over the keys, pouring herself into melodies because music was her anchor. The girl who devoured books, wrote endlessly, found solace in words when life felt overwhelming. The girl who, at some point, realised that language wasn’t just about communication — it was about connection, about understanding people and the worlds they carried within them.

If the new year is about setting goals, mine are simple: to stay present, to be kind to myself, and to lean into the things that make me feel most alive. I want to play my music without worrying if it’s perfect, write without second-guessing every word, and learn without the fear of failure. I want to remind myself that success isn’t measured by a number or a title but by the depth of passion and purpose I bring to what I love.

2025 will be a year of transitions. High school will come to an end, and the uncertainty of the future will loom larger than ever. But for now, I want to savour the in-between — the laughter with friends before we all go our separate ways, the last rehearsals, the late-night study sessions that turn into existential conversations.

Maybe "new year, new you" isn’t about changing who we are. Maybe it’s about realising how far we’ve come and stepping into the next chapter with a little more courage, a little more clarity.

So here’s to 2025. Not as a blank slate, but as a continuation of everything I already am.

So together, in 2025, let’s twenty-twenty-THRIVE.

with love,

Cecilia