Oops!

I blinked and the year ended.

Like Nezo wrote in his most recent post, "it's that time of the year once more– the period where I have to chronicle how my year went for your amusement."

I’ll be honest, looking back at my archive, I was only really "here" on Substack for the better part of January, February, March, April, and May. After that, it seems I took a massive, unannounced break from June until November.

I can’t remember clearly what happened within those months. My memory of the mid-year is a blur of heat, routine, and a strange kind of quiet. But I’m sure if I went back and checked my chats with my friends, I’d probably find an explanation. It’s all there in the digital receipts, the "I’m overwhelmed" voice notes, the "we should hang out" texts that never manifested, and the late-night memes that served as my only form of communication.

I think we often treat "consistency" like it’s the only metric of success. If you aren't posting, you aren't growing. If you aren't documenting, it didn't happen. But looking back at the silence between June and November, I realize I wasn't doing nothing; I was just doing things that didn't have a "publish" button.

I think my brain simply ran out of ink in June. I had friends asking me, "Why aren't you writing like before?" and I'd just reply, "I don't have anything to say." Meanwhile, my head was unbearably loud. I figured I had a lot more to say than to write, so I started a little voice note diary.

Sometimes, the best parts of the year are the ones you’re too busy living to actually write about. (Was I busy living, though? Or just drifting?) Some days felt like healing. Other days felt like hiding. I slept too much, overthought everything, and kept waiting to feel like myself again– as if myself was a fixed destination I’d somehow missed. It took me a while to realize that this quiet, uncertain, low-energy version wasn’t an intermission. She was also me. Not my most impressive form, just my most honest one.

Still, if someone placed an achievement cake in front of me right now and told me I could only have a slice if I named a major milestone from this year... I’d come up blank. That realization is why I want 2026 to be different.

I should also admit that this isn’t my first “I’m back.” I’ve announced my return a few times this year, each time with real optimism and absolutely no follow-through. At this point, even I don’t believe my own grand re-entrances. So this isn’t a comeback. It’s more like a cautious reappearance. No confetti. Just me, knocking gently.

I’m taking my goals seriously this year. I want a mix of the heavy and the goofy– I want to learn how to make the perfect jollof, scratch that, I want to get a Jigsaw puzzle, but I also want to move with enough purpose that I can actually claim my slice of the cake next December– if God spares my life till then. If 2025 was the year of the "Disappearing Act," I want 2026 to be the year of Intentional Presence. No more vanishing for six months– but also no more pressure to be "on" 24/7.

To those of you who stayed subscribed through the radio silence: thank you. To those who just joined, welcome to the chaos. It’s been a weird year, but it’s been a year, and I suppose that’s enough of a reason to celebrate.

To get things moving again, here is a list of articles I have in my drafts. Let me know in the comments which one you'd love to read first:

1. If obsession isn’t love, then I haven’t even loved at all.

2. The duality of man.

3. Am I dodging accountability by blaming my body?

4. You will never know the extent to which I love you, but I hope you miss me sometimes.

5. Our parents are getting old.

6. I hate the fear that comes with fame.

There are more, but I think these ones, I'm more confident of.

Your anonymous bestie

Ree🤍