The Beauty of the Unwritten**

9:03 AM—Ethan handed me my latte today with the usual cinnamon, but this time, he didn’t say a word. Just a quick grin before turning to the next customer. And instead of spiraling into "Did I do something wrong?", I felt… nothing. Not in a bad way—just in a "This is fine as it is" way.

Because here’s what I’m realizing: Not every moment needs to be a story.

My sketchbook’s open to a new design—something fluid, unstructured, with raw edges left intentionally unfinished. A month ago, I would’ve ripped the page out for not being "polished enough." Now? I’m leaning into the mess.

Here’s what’s different this time:

1. I’m not romanticizing potential anymore. Liam did text—two days later, casual, "That gallery’s having another show next week." No subtext, no grand gesture. And instead of reading into the delay, I replied with a simple "Sounds fun!" and left it at that. No overthinking, no imaginary futures. Just what it is.

2. My creativity is learning to breathe. That unfinished design? My professor stopped by my desk yesterday, tilted her head, and said, "It’s alive." Not "It’s good," not "It’s almost there." Just alive. And that’s enough. I used to think art had to be perfect to matter. Now I see the beauty in the process, the rawness, the not knowing where it’s headed.

3. I’m embracing the quiet. October in LA is all about slow mornings and golden light. I used to fill every silence with noise—music, podcasts, constant texting. Now? I’m learning to sit with the stillness. To let moments be without forcing them into something more.

Ethan just laughed at something his coworker said, and for the first time, I didn’t wonder if I was missing out on the joke. I just let it exist—a happy sound in the background of my morning.

Growth isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about being okay with the unwritten pages.

xx Mandy

(P.S. Liam hasn’t replied. And honestly? I haven’t even noticed until just now. Progress.)