The Magic of Small Beginnings**
It’s 9 AM again—Ethan handed me my latte with a smirk today, which either means he’s warming up to me or he’s judging my caffeine addiction. (Both, probably.) The air in LA has that crisp, early-fall feel, and I’m sitting here with my sketchbook open, realizing something: endings don’t always leave scars. Sometimes, they leave space.
A week ago, I was mourning a breakup. Yesterday, I was celebrating independence. And today? Today I’m just… here. Present. Not racing toward the next thing or clinging to the last one.
Here’s what’s shifting:
1. I’m falling in love with the process. My design professor stopped me after class to say my work has “a new energy.” At first, I thought she meant post-breakup angst, but no—she said it’s playful. And she’s right. I’ve stopped treating every sketch like it has to be perfect, and suddenly, I’m having fun again. Who knew?
2. Solo isn’t a placeholder. I almost cancelled my plans to wander the Arts District alone yesterday—almost convinced myself it’d be “sad.” But I went anyway, and ended up stumbling into a tiny vintage shop where the owner let me flip through her ’90s fashion archives. No one to rush me, no one to impress—just me and racks of inspiration. It felt like a secret gift, the kind you only get when you’re not waiting for someone else to show up.
3. The little things aren’t so little. Like how my roommate left a sticky note on my mirror this morning (“Your eyeliner is chef’s kiss today”), or how the barista at my old coffee shop (yes, I finally went back) grinned and said, “Missed you, double-shot Mandy.” It’s these tiny moments that stitch together a life—not just the big, dramatic plot twists.
I used to think growth was about reinvention. Now I think it’s about returning—to yourself, to the joy you forgot was yours, to the simple act of sitting in a coffee shop, alive and unafraid of the quiet.
So yeah, I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m here. I’m trying. And for now? That’s enough.
xx Mandy
(P.S. Bought a ridiculous pair of neon yellow sunglasses at that vintage shop. No regrets. Jake would’ve hated them—which is exactly why I love them.)