In 2025, we'll chase the sunsets

If I were to choose one word to describe how I feel about 2024, it would be fulfilled.  

I entered the year with high hopes and ambitious goals. Despite learning a few years ago to be kinder to myself, the goals I set down seemed demanding—perhaps even unachievable. I wanted to publish two books, read twenty, take vitamins, and watch more sunsets.  

Funny how my sequential task execution kicked in as I worked on these goals. Four years of languishing in my literary career, surrounded by pages of progress yet unfinished manuscripts, finally led me to write and complete a love story inspired by my own happiness and self-love. It still amazes me that I created characters out of pure fiction and imagination, and even more so that I had the chance to introduce them to the world.  

Routines are nurturing. Carving out dedicated time for writing, free from distractions, allowed my creativity to flow freely. Yet routines can also feel rigid. At times, I felt trapped by them, as if I were merely going through the motions. One important realization I had this year was the need for balance. I learned to integrate spontaneity into my structured days. While my desk at home is cozy and provides everything I need, visiting a café with a spectacular view or enjoying a last-minute coffee-work date with friends became a refreshing change.  

Ultimately, I had to fall in love with what I do... all over again.  

There was a time when writing felt like a distant memory, buried under the weight of obligations and other priorities I deemed more important. I tried so hard to reconcile with it, but I couldn’t find the spark that once ignited my creativity—until an unexpected opportunity arose. It reminded me how much I had missed the thrill of creation.  

Falling in love with writing again felt like reuniting with an old friend. I embraced the messiness of the process: the drafts, the revisions, the artworks, and even the moments of self-doubt. Each word I wrote reignited my passion and reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.

Rediscovering my passion transformed so many things in my life. It’s true—when you’re in love, it shows in everything you do. The things that once felt like escapism became tools to enjoy life. I no longer read books just to escape. Now, I read to engage, to learn, and to grow. The pages are no longer distractions but gateways to understanding myself and the world around me.  

But, as the Asian dramas I love have taught me, life is full of surprises. It’s a curious reality that even when striving to be your best self, you may find yourself on the receiving end of animosity. It can be disheartening, but I’ve learned not to measure my worth by others’ disdain. Self-acceptance is far more powerful than the weight of opinions. It has taught me resilience. I’ve come to understand that not everyone will appreciate me, and that’s okay. True strength lies in embracing my individuality, regardless of what others think.  

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the truest, most genuine people I’ve met along the way. These are the ones who ground me during storms and celebrate with me in moments of calm. The ones who have seen me at my best and worst, who laugh with me in joy and support me in sorrow. They are the ones I chose, and who chose me. The ones who defended me when I was wronged and spoke for me when I couldn’t find my voice.  

I am endlessly grateful for them and the friendship they bring.  

And so, it’s heartbreaking when one of them leaves. Their absence is a poignant reminder of life’s fleeting nature. The grief is palpable—a mix of sadness for the Mondays that will never be the same and gratitude for having known someone who taught me so much about the industry I work in and about life itself.  

As I write this, I think about the sunsets I’ve witnessed this year—those fleeting moments when the sky bursts into hues of yellow, orange, and pink. Each sunset is a gentle reminder that the day is ending—a magnificent closure to whatever has transpired. Perhaps I’ve done too much this year. Maybe I got too caught up in chasing dreams that I forgot to chase sunsets.  

And it isn’t just about the beauty of the colors. It’s about the stillness they bring and the chance to pause and appreciate the world around me. Missing more sunsets feels like missing out on moments of reflection and gratitude. Every sunset I missed was a chance passed by, and a reminder to cherish time and make space for these experiences.  

So in 2025, I’ll chase more sunsets. I’ll prioritize those quiet, reflective moments. Life is too short to let sunsets slip away unnoticed.