falling in love with change

i haven’t written here in some time, but i’ve been feeling inspired again and wanted to return to the place i love most—writing. not for a grade or a deadline, but simply to sit in the quiet space where words become comfort, both for me and for anyone who might feel seen in them.

lately, i’ve been thinking a lot (as i tend to) about change. what a daunting word that is. i don’t know about anyone else, but change has never been my strong suit. i’ve always been the girl who struggled to let go—moving houses or schools, losing a loved one (stuffed animal or human), even rearranging my room. it has all felt like small heartbreaks. and now here i am, sitting in the same café where i’ve written every blog post, knowing i’ll only be here a few more times before i’m in a new city, searching for a new place to write as i step into the unfamiliar world of college. it’s frightening, and it’s happening whether i feel ready or not.

if i’m honest, i’ve been clinging to the version of myself who knows the way home with her eyes closed. the girl who recognizes every corner of her neighborhood, who finds comfort in her mom’s laugh when she’s gossiping, who has friends that just understand without needing context. there is something so sacred about routine, about the familiar, about the gentle softness of the life i’ve built and loved so deeply.

but i’m learning that there is something equally sacred within the unknown.

change doesn’t have to be the villain of the story. sometimes it’s the hand that nudges you forward when you’re stuck, the breath of air that fills the room when it’s been stuffy for too long. i’m trying to believe it’s the universe whispering, “you’re not done growing yet—there’s more to see.” and maybe that’s the beautiful part.

i don’t want to stay the same. i still carry the tree-hugging three-year-old, the rule-following middle schooler, and the bright-eyed high schooler, but there are more versions of me waiting to be found—more selves to gather along the way. comfort is warm, and i know i’ll cherish the day i settle into a future home, but right now i want to become the version of myself who is brave enough to begin again. the girl who walks into new rooms with shaky hands but an open heart. who says yes to possibility, even as she misses what came before.

as i pack my things—pieces of home, my favorite books, stuffed animals, old birthday cards, the necklaces my grandmother gave me—I feel a bittersweet ache I can’t fully name. it’s grief and hope intertwined. the sorrow of goodbye softened by the quiet thrill of what’s ahead.

so this post is my love letter to change. to beginnings. to the messy, in-between spaces. to letting go, even when it hurts. to becoming someone i haven’t met yet.

and to you, if you’re facing change—whether it’s a new city, a new chapter, or a new version of yourself—I hope you know you’re not alone. i hope you give yourself grace. i hope you find small sparks of joy in the unfamiliar. and i hope you trust that the best parts of you aren’t disappearing—they’re evolving.

because i’ll still be me. and there will still be people waiting for me, cheering me on. maybe that’s the true gift of change.

sending you love, wherever you are.

forever always,
wesley anne 💌