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Currently listening to ”Act my age” by Lany- thought I loved the album ”A Beautiful Blur” but there’s something about ”Soft” that hits.

I’ve started something.
And you might be wondering what exactly that means.

I’ve started to voice out my opinions.

Now, before you roll your eyes and say, “Okay… and? People do that every day,” let me explain. I am not the girl who casually drops her two cents into conversations. If a topic doesn’t directly involve me. I used to shrink my thoughts down, treat it like a hot stove (look, but don’t touch). I’d swallow my thoughts whole, convinced they were too small, too soft, too insignificant to matter. I would ask myself, What difference will one opinion make? Will anyone even notice my contribution?

So I stayed quiet.
Not silent, just… edited.

But something shifted. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the slow realisation that everyone else is winging it too. Whatever it was, it nudged me forward. And suddenly, I found myself saying things out loud. Tiny things, big things, inconvenient things, things that made me feel like I was stepping into a version of myself I had been avoiding. And honestly? It feels strange.
Strange in the way growth always does, like wearing your first bra that doesn’t quite fit yet, but looks really good at the same time.

But honestly… damn all of that (pardon my English). I read a lot (mostly by accident), and so much of it actually resonates with me. I’m the kind of person who, if something hits, it hits. It settles into my chest, sets up camp, and lingers for days like an uninvited guest.

And then the mental torture starts…
Why didn’t I say something? They literally asked for comments. Why didn’t I leave mine?
But by the time I’m ready to speak, the comment section is overflowing, and I convince myself my little thought won’t stand out anyway.

Maybe that’s the real issue.
Maybe I’ve always wanted to stand out.
Maybe I don’t want to be tossed into the general pile of “people who commented.”
Is that narcissism? A rant? A personality flaw? I don’t know, but I am slightly concerned.

But I’m also learning that wanting my voice to matter doesn’t make me self‑absorbed. It makes me human. So, yes, I’ve started something. A tiny rebellion, really. Saying how I feel when I feel it. If something strikes you once, respond. Don’t swallow it. Don’t gatekeep your own opinions as if they were state secrets (someone please expose them). If you feel strongly about something, say it, do it, whatever the moment calls for. You don’t need applause to be real. Sometimes, maybe all you need is to drop your two cents, dust your hands, and move on. Respectfully, of course (we don’t do garbage behaviour in this house).

Maybe it’s okay to let the world see as much of me as they impose on me. Maybe it’s time to remind them gently, boldly, unapologetically that I deserve a seat at every goddamn table (pardon my language again, but Hopper said it with his chest in Stranger Things). Maybe it was never about winning a prize, so people finally learn my name. Maybe it’s about giving my heart some peace by admitting how something makes me feel. Maybe the real victory is choosing honesty over performance. (I am a very good performer, though)

I watch a lot of YouTube, probably an unhealthy amount. I find it refreshing to see people living their lives on a scale I couldn’t have imagined for myself. The other day, I was watching Lillian Chiu, and she said her core value for 2026 is to ”move like water. That line hit me right in the chest: “the ability to keep flowing irrespective of anything.” I felt that. Not because I’m an Aquarius (lol—did I ever mention that before I became TraceyEveryday, my blog was called The 21st Century Aquarian?). But because the idea of flow feels like something I’ve been craving without realising it.

One thing I want to do this new year is maintain a flow state, especially as someone who freezes when overwhelmed, like my life is a paused video buffering on bad WiFi like Vodafone. Being in a flow state doesn’t mean you don’t get sad or have downtime. It means that no matter what keeps happening, I continue to choose movement over stagnancy. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when I’m scared. Even when the path looks blurry. I’m learning that I’d rather be wrong a hundred times than overthink myself into stillness and take no step at all.

I’m learning that my thoughts don’t need to be groundbreaking to be valid.
They don’t need applause.
They don’t need permission. They just need space.
And I’m finally giving them that.

So yes, I’ve started something.
Something small, but also not small at all.
Something that feels like the beginning of a new chapter, or at least a new paragraph. Here I am, speaking anyway. Even if my voice shakes. Even if no one claps. Even if it’s just me learning that my thoughts don’t need permission to exist.

And if you’re reading this, maybe you’re starting something too.

Happy New Year. See you on the next entry x