Waiting for Midnight

Day 37 – December 30, 2025

There’s something strange about the last few days of a year. Everyone starts reflecting whether they want to or not. Social media fills up with dramatic captions about transformation and lessons learned and leaving the past behind like the calendar is some kind of cosmic recycling bin.

But life doesn’t work that way. Midnight doesn’t erase anything. It doesn’t neatly wrap up the year you just survived. And this year took a lot from me.

My sense of safety. My sense of trust. The quiet assumption that people wouldn’t hurt me in ways that permanently changed the architecture of my nervous system.

But today I realized something else too. This year didn’t take everything.

I’m still here.

That sentence feels deceptively simple. But after everything that happened, “still here” carries a lot of weight.

Still breathing. Still thinking. Still writing. Still capable of imagining a future even if it looks different than the one I once pictured.

The apartment was especially quiet tonight. The Christmas tree lights still glowing softly like they’re trying to stretch the holiday just a little longer. Roger curled up on the couch beside me like a warm loaf of bread with ears.

At one point I looked around the room and realized something that surprised me.

Despite everything that happened this year I don’t feel defeated.

Tired, yes. Changed, absolutely.

But defeated? No.

There’s a quiet stubbornness in me now.

The kind that refuses to let the worst thing that happened to me also become the final definition of my life. That realization feels like the real ending to this year.

Not midnight. Not fireworks.

Just the quiet understanding that I survived something that tried very hard to break me.

Chaos in one hand. Grace in the other.

And one more day left in this strange, brutal, transformative year.