Over the past 12 months, I moved one first time, bought a piano, met new people to make music with, created new music, and recorded on the radio for the first time. I went to the US, took a self-driving car, fell in love, and discovered beautiful landscapes. I broke my little finger. I went to Spain, to the mountain, to the ocean, and to very expensive restaurants. I trusted deeply. I reconnected with old friends. I went to an Irish music show. I went to the top of the Eiffel Tower and into the catacombs. I went to the US again, loved as I never had before. I believed in it as I never had before. I had my heart broken. I spent my birthday alone (thank you Mischie), slept alone in the desert, and met myself as far from home as possible. I saw a tarantula for the first time, rented at least 10 cars, and drove through deserts, mountains, and along the sea coast on California 1. I had the longest hikes I ever had by myself. I spent all my money. I cried as I never had before. I’ve been the strongest and the weakest I’ve ever been. I’ve been the happiest and the saddest person on earth. I’ve lost many of my bearings. I’ve discovered panic attacks, loss of self-esteem, guiltiness, and a little bit more of who I am. I smiled and cried at Tom Odell’s show. I visited at least 25 apartments and lived in five different places. I moved again, started a new job, met new people, lost some, took a train under the sea, went to London twice and have been to some of my favorite bands shows.
2025 has been beautifully exhausting. 2026 to get some rest, probably.
