April 17, 2030

Dear Diary,

I’m feeling stuck. 2030 was supposed to be my year, but now, a third of the way in, it just feels like all the others that have come before it.

I haven’t reached my goal weight, gotten that fat promotion, or found inner peace.

The only thing I have to show for this year so far is that I can finally say no, and mean it. People are always making demands of my time and insisting that I do this or that to make them happy.

No more.

I’ve started living to please myself, and only myself. No longer will I bow to the whims of the world. No longer will I succomb to the will of another.

Instead, I give myself the grace to think and act for myself.

Maybe the future is looking bright after all.