**The Beauty of Unfinished Things**

9:02 AM—Same blazer (Liam’s, duh), same ripped jeans, same black coffee with oat. Same Ethan, same nod, same "Morning, Mandy." But today? I didn’t just feel safe. I felt free.

Because here’s the revelation I didn’t see coming: the most beautiful parts of life aren’t the polished, finished pieces. They’re the messy, unresolved, still-in-progress ones.

1. I’m obsessed with the imperfect. That phase where I needed every outfit to tell a story? Exhausting. The rebellion where I refused to let anything feel too intentional? Also exhausting. But this? This is just… living. No pressure to be profound. No guilt for not having it all figured out. Just me, in a blazer that’s technically borrowed but feels like mine, and the quiet confidence of knowing unfinished doesn’t mean broken.

2. My creativity is learning to breathe. That ridiculous cartoon of Ethan? Still hanging. Still terrible. But this morning, I noticed someone else had added to it—a tiny, lopsided heart next to my stick-figure dog. And instead of overthinking it, I just… laughed. Because some art isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s meant to be alive.

3. I’m falling in love with the gaps. Liam didn’t text. Didn’t ask about the blazer. Didn’t need to. And for the first time, I didn’t just accept it—I loved it. Because some silences aren’t empty. They’re full.

Ethan handed me my coffee—black, splash of oat—and our fingers brushed again. "You good?" he asked. I grinned. "Better than good." He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" I took a sip. "Yeah."

No explanations. No resolutions. Just… this.

And maybe that’s the real evolution—not in the finish line, but in the joy of the race itself.

xx Mandy

(P.S. That blazer? Still here. Still his. Still mine. Still unfinished. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.)