Happy 26th Birthday to Me

Dear Kundai in 152 Days,

Happy birthday. You are officially 26. I think that still counts as mid-twenties, because there's no way we've already reached our late-twenties.

Happy birthday. This also means you've made it halfway through the year 2025. And for that, I am proud. I am proud of you for showing up day after day. Where I'm sat now, I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going. But if you're there reading this in 6 months, I at least got somewhere.

I hope you're experiencing ease.

I hope that all the showing up I've done has amounted to stillness. I hope that you spend cosy mornings in bed with the perfect balance between warmth and coolness. I'd love for you to have an air conditioner. How luxurious a life that would be.

I hope that when you cook meals at night, you feel a wellspring of joy. Making dinner can often feel like a chore, a necessity for survival. I want you to live in a version of life where you have the excess energy to enjoy making, creating from scratch.

I hope you are still learning.

Even within the ease of having your basic and supernatural needs met, I hope you are still choosing to learn. Learning about love. Learning about imaginary worlds. Learning about others.

I hope that you are happy.

I know what makes me happy now, but I don't know what will make you happy in a few months. In case they are the same, I wish you deep connections. I wish your heart safety. I wish you as many solo cinema dates as you need, and sushi multiple times a month. I wish you flights, and time with your family. I wish you well.

I hope that you are comfortable in your body.

We've put so much intention already into getting to know this new, adult body of ours. She's different than she was in our early-20s, different than teenagehood. I hope you continue to get to know her. What she prefers to eat, how to keep her strong.

And I hope you're winning.

I hope you're finding that your heart's desires are being met in ways too beautiful and abundant for you to fully describe.

I hope you're being gentle with yourself.

You're 26. You're not a god. And that's okay.

I hope you're still writing.

I know that writing takes a lot out of you. Writing takes a lot out of me too, but I hope you're still writing. There's something special about the moments we capture when we sit down to type or put pen to paper. Even if no new people acknowledge this magic, I see it. I feel it. And this act matters to me.

That being said, no matter what we do or do not accomplish over the next few months, I promise I am proud to be a part of your history.

Even if you stop writing, even then.

You don't need to wonder if you've made me proud, or if you've done enough. You have done enough. Because you've survived. You've survived, and you've taken the time to even consider who we were. In your consideration, please do not feel tied down by who I am.

Yes, you were once me. What a strange thought. But you don't need to stay me. I am immortalised in these words. I am a part of your story. But know that you are free to grow. You are free to want different things than I do.

Happy birthday. My beautiful, little bit older, present self. Happy birthday.