Hira Saeed

Sometimes I find myself in this funny conundrum of not being able to write about my own life. Even when I know the premise of what I want to say, it never seems to have a rhythm. Maybe it’s a lack of skill. Or maybe when you live with big feelings and big moves, trying to capture them in a 30-second reel for the engagement of an algorithm feels deeply disingenuous.

How do I put 365 days of life into a container and still show you all the ups, the downs, the deep pits of my year? How do I stay true to the algorithm gods while also staying true to the actual weight of what this year felt like? Is this a failure of skill, or is it simply that I don’t have the right container for my life yet?

I’ll still attempt, if you’re still reading.

2025 was a year of the unknown for me. It almost felt like I was watching a reel of someone else’s life, one I was somehow playing. In my 20s, I used to beg the universe for a break, and 2025 finally brought it.

For someone who hasn’t taken a break since she was 18, I didn’t know what to do with it. Do I work out twice a day? Do I cook? Do I dress up for no reason at all? There were too many hours in a day, and no instructions on how to live inside them.

And then there was the absence of validation. I am smart. I am capable. I have always been told how hard I work, how well I perform, how much I kick ass. But four months of no validation? No deadlines. No applause. That part was louder than I expected.

It almost felt like I was forced to live. To breathe. To exist without knowing what I was producing. I grew up in survival mode, I know that. I know deadlines. I know how to invest 25% of my salary. I know taxes. I know how to be responsible, efficient, impressive.

What I didn’t know was how to be still without feeling like I was disappearing.

It taught me unknown. It asked me to sit with that feeling instead of outrunning it.

To let the days be quiet. To let myself exist without proof. I don’t know if I did it well, but I showed up to it honestly.

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