2025

Dear friend,

In 2025, I didn't process a thing. Life moved faster than the time you get to hop on a train. In this letter, I'll attempt to collect my thoughts and feelings for the year.

This year, I've lived ten lives. It hasn't been a bad year—nowhere near. More so, an awkward one. Being new to a big city is scary; it's forced me to begin facing myself. What do I truly want? Options are unlimited here. I'm going to figure it out. 

In 2025, I rarely cried. This is new. I became more stoic. I'm not sure if I've lost more screws or become more grounded. I was humbled this year. I was brought back to earth, compensated, and in return, found a truer confidence. This year, I felt balanced. Not too high, not too low. I hope this neutrality becomes a new norm in my life.  

This year, I realized I had finally moved on from the first girl I fell for in my early twenties. That realization felt big at the time, but now it feels silly. I'm glad for the experience. It taught me to trust my intuition and look forward to the future. Hope is a powerful tool, so I've learned. 

In 2025, I felt some of the same cyclical guilt and paranoia I tend to feel when things are going well for me. At times, I don't feel deserving of happiness. This year, I began to slowly welcome joy with open arms. I'm figuring it out. That's the theme here. I'm in no rush. 

In 2025, my mind felt rich in open-mindedness and acceptance. The world is not black or white; it's gray. I became more confident in my sexuality. I dabbled in my "masculinity," and it felt awkward at times. I'm still exploring this. 

This year, I missed my sister. I missed my best friends. I missed my cousins. But New York City is my home now. I guess that's the elephant in the room. A year is not enough to swallow the magnitude of this place and explain to you how it's been going for me. All I know is that, for the first time, I feel like I have a home. And when I go to bed, I dream of the place I live in, and when I leave, I yearn to be here. My life is here. My lover is here. My new friends are here. My dreams lie here. 

I've gained a new appreciation for Texas and the once-small town I come from. I still daydream of Austin in 2008 and the fields I passed on my way to soccer practice. The people of Texas are truly something special. Texas is special because of its diversity and strong Mexican culture. Mexican culture seeps into Texas with its kindness, vibrancy, and care. Let us not forget that. 

In 2025, my friendships deepened. I feel so lucky. Friend, cousin, sister—I know you are reading this. Thank you for being in my life. Because of our long-standing friendship, I have grown to feel secure and able. I'm lucky always, and it's an overwhelming feeling to not have everything figured out, yet for life to feel more than enough. 

Dear friend, I'm not sure whom I'm still writing these for. For you, I suppose. Friend, I don't know how your 2025 went, but I hope you're doing well. I hope you are cozy. I hope you have some good food this holiday season. I hope you feel loved. I'm sending warmth. You've made it another year, the year of the wood snake! I'm proud of you. I'm wishing you the best in 2026. A year that will bring freedom, action, and renewed energy. 

My cup is full. I hope yours is too. 
For now, take it easy. 
Until next time, friend. 

Best,

Les