2024 sucked? Don't worry, it's just you!

Everyone else’s year was wildly stunning!

Maybe it’s just my algorithm annoyingly and excessively featuring videos that compare the dreamy girl’s aesthetic vision board of 2024 to her real life in 2024— and obviously, her real life looks E X A C T L Y like her vision board. She dreams of swimming with stingrays in French Polynesia, so she manifests it. She dreams of getting a ridiculously big bouquet of flowers delivered to her doorstep, so she manifests it. You’ll find her taking selfies in business class seats, unedited to be relatable, sipping on her iced matcha latte in Shinjuku, and religiously getting a blowout before a girls' night out.

Scrolling through social media as the year ends has the same energy as running into your ex hand in hand with his new girlfriend, who happens to have fuller hair than you and a French manicure. Very rarely we leave such an encounter inspired to finally use Rosemary Oil on our scalp. More so often, we feel like the ugly sibling. I don’t appreciate the idea that as the year ends, many of us only want to remember the big moments. That our lives have to be extraordinarily great in order to be considered worthy. That showcasing anything less than a clip of yourself bungee jumping in Tanzania or getting proposed to in the Maldives isn’t worthy of taking up space or being remembered. Seriously, what the fuck? Although I happily admit that I wanted the low moments of this year to pass as quickly as possible while they lasted, I genuinely want to remember them. I never want to forget how I sat crying on the floor after spending a lump sum on a room in NYC because I realized I actually hated it. I never want to forget how I laid awake in the shared flat of my ex, hearing his roommate talk about just another lie he had told me. I never want to forget the time I had to argue with my ex’s mom about the existence of fleas in her bed (she said there were none, but my whole body was miraculously covered in bites). Would I have dreamt of putting these moments on my vision board this time last year? Hell no! I would’ve absolutely dreaded their existence, even though they turned out to be the most meaningful minutes (felt hours) of the entire year. So I guess what I’m trying to say here is that the shit moments deserve to be remembered too—yes, even cherished! Go off and throw a fucking ‘happy two-year single anniversary’ party or a ‘moved to the wrong city’ party. Create a PowerPoint for your friends to showcase the absolute worst moments this year had in store for you. Do whatever you want with these moments, but please, don’t ever let them make you feel unaccomplished or ashamed.

Recently, I saw a comment under a video where two girls filmed themselves twerking on a private jet (kinda goals to be fair). The comment said: ‘Y’all, this video is just the 10-second highlight. Afterwards they sat down looking at their phones for the remaining flight time.’ Uff, this person spoke some truth we all needed to hear because this is exactly how I feel about the vision board vs. real-life clips that are circulating through our little online world right now. Sure, there’s some inspiration in seeing what other people have achieved this year, but to think that these small moments of success make up their entire life is plain stupid. I mean what could possible go wrong if you compare your own precious life to that of a person you don’t even know, to a life you don’t even know you’d want to live if you could only see the full spectrum?! You guessed it, a lot!

So, if you’re wondering why the fuck you didn’t swim with stingrays in French Polynesia, and why the fuck no one has ever been so in love with you—or financially set up enough to send you a massive flower bouquet—maybe it’s because you’re a failure and the whole world is against you. Or maybe (and most likely), it’s because you’re just a human like the rest of us—who happens to have no idea how to adult, like the rest of us. Maybe 2025 is going to be your year: the year where you get chocolate delivered to your doorstep, Hinge matches who don’t ghost you after the first date, and a gynecologist who doesn’t tell you to make a baby before it’s too late. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and your writing will be discovered by a super famous and equally hot publisher who madly falls in love with you and you’ll live happily ever after with five book deals and just as many children. Or maybe none of these things will happen, and your year will still be just as beautiful—god forbid, maybe even better!

Your grass is green enough, babe, it’s a whole fucking vibrant forest.