Janzzyy in the future, the one years from now, 

I’m writing to you from a quiet place—a space between uncertainty and growth. I'm 24 now. Just 24 years of existence, and still, I wonder if I'm living the life I wanted. I probably asked myself this question before, “How will I be doing three years from now?” And while I can’t recall every version of that question, I know I always hoped you'd be okay—freer, lighter, maybe at your best.

Right now, I am still figuring things out. Every path does not always guarantee a straight and smooth journey. That “social clock” insisted I should already be established by now—owning a car, growing my savings, building a defined career path. The truth? I’m not there. Not yet. And I think that’s okay.

I’ve learned that success doesn’t follow a pattern. It’s not measured only by milestones that can be posted or praised. Sometimes, it's simply staying here—especially on the days I wished I could fall into the sky and sleep endlessly.

The last few months have been hard. Stress has clung to me in ways to the point of I'm struggling to breathe. I’ve felt my emotions fluctuate, my thoughts being mess, and my energy flock down. I was recently diagnosed with something that might change how it affects my future. It's scary. But I’m learning to carry it—with courage, with bravery.

Still, there is light.

I’m still the girl who finds comfort in chocolate milk, still the lady who loves anime even I can just rarely watch now, and still the woman who holds on to the tiny dreams that she refuses to let go of. I’ve realized that life doesn’t need to be luxurious to be meaningful. My peace matters more. Empathy matters more. I cherish the people around me who loves me and knew me in deeper level—the way I am. Especially the person who always stick by my side even the world crumbles down. The person who help me grow, the person who expresses unconditional love to me even I make mistakes.

Even if the world gets loud and overwhelming, I’ve come to appreciate quiet living—the slow, steady kind of growth that doesn’t need to be seen but is always happening.

So, Janz from the future—wherever you are now—I hope you’re proud. I hope you remember that the version of us at 24, though flawed and tired and unsure, still chose to hope. Still chose to stay. Still chose to grow. Still chose to believe.

You may still be far from the life you're dreaming, but I hope you're closer even a bit. I hope you’re gentle with yourself. I hope you’ve continued to protect your peace. And even if things haven’t turned out the way we once dreamed, I hope you’ve found a life that feels like your own.

Here’s to more growth, more healing, and more softness in a world that so often demands the opposite. Nothing is wrong with being a fragile incarnation and it's okay.

With love, 

Me — 24 and still becoming.