âlexistentialismâ is a bi-weekly Monday night newsletter where I share inspiration, epiphanies, and what I'm thinking about that week.
the air is cold, the holiday season is in full swing, and Iâm taking the time to reflect on the year as it comes to a close.
2024, you were ravenous and unashamed, feasting on my heart like it was nothing. but you were also beautiful and forgiving, giving me space to repair it as needed. I welcomed you on my best friendâs couch, eating sushi and looking at the only person who has ever kept me from crying on New Yearâs Eve.
in February, I got an impulse tattoo with a friend who would later be the one doing the tattooing. I tried to run from 24, but it caught up to me anyway. itâs funny how that always happens.
March saw me at my worst, in bed and surrounded by nothing but the deafening sound of my own thoughts. March watched me push the world away, watched me tear myself to pieces thinking no one else would see the wreckage. (spoiler: they still did. those who love you always will.)
by April, Iâd found solace in live music again. I sang. I cried. I wrote poetry. later, my cat ran away from home and the loss was so big it became my whole heart. the world can be cruel and sometimes love leaves before we can say goodbye.
then May brought me a new job with familiar faces. May introduced me to children whose eyes still glow and whose hearts are still wide open. May showed me itâs not too late for me to be the same.
June let me rebuild. I cut my hair. I celebrated my brotherâs birthday and we toasted to next year in Paris. my spark flickered back to life and I vowed to keep it alive as long as Iâm still breathing.
I was still breathing in July. for a while, that was all I was doing, and that was okay. I learned that I am enough at any stage of my life, but I am never finished.
in August, I saw my cat one more time. he purred until his last breath, knowing I was his and he was mine until the very end. sometimes, love comes back to us, even if we still have to say goodbye. in August, I wrote the last essay Iâd ever have to submit. I watched my friend get married. there are endings and beginnings all around us and there is magic to be found in all of it.
September was the month of observing the world without the desperation of keeping up with it. I quit my retail job. I went to concerts. I picnicked with my friend and met an outdoor cat who looked so much like mine. sometimes, the little things define our days.
and sometimes, we are defined by the big moments. October gave me a new tattoo, a handful of beautiful days with my friends, and a university degree. I brought lexistentialism back, and what a joy it has been to write to you all and hear so many of your voices in return. for months, Iâd been breathing out of necessity, but October allowed me to finally breathe by choice.
November was the best and the worst of times. I saw Bruce Springsteen three times in a week and caught a glimpse of the little kid inside me who learned everything from him. I held my breath as the US election results came in, wanted to hide when I saw such widespread support for a bigot. instead, I reintroduced myself as Lex to anyone who was listening, and exhaled.
in December, I took a plane to Vancouver and went to the Eras Tour with my best friend. we took countless photos, traded friendship bracelets, and basked in the hope of it all. I visited the Christmas Market and discovered thereâs nothing that canât be fixed by a cup of hot chocolate.
2024, you made no promise to be soft, and you often werenât. still, youâre ending just as you began: full of love. love doesnât disappear when the pain gets too loud. it beats inside me through everything â through stroking my catâs head for the last time, through difficult conversations, through every sleepless night and every ragged breath.
in keeping with that, my only wish for this year is for more love. in return, may we all be kinder to each other and keep going through every shaky inhale of air.
and may we all breathe easier in 2025.
since this is my last post until the new year, I want to highlight my most played song of 2024, Gretta Rayâs âYouâve Already Wonâ. to me, itâs the antithesis of Bo Burnhamâs âThat Funny Feelingâ, which essentially reflects on the hopelessness of the modern world. itâs all too easy to lose yourself in despair, but Gretta highlights the simple beauties that exist all around us instead.
in particular, I love the mundane imagery of the lyric âtea towels and dishes driedâ. itâs not exactly glamorous or out of the ordinary, and thatâs what makes it special. itâs domestic, just another day in the life, and so utterly human.
we take the little things for granted more often than not, but it really only takes looking around to realize how much we truly have.
there is so much love here. once we know that, weâve already won.
until next year,
lex
This one made me cry, Lex (but what else is new?)