**The Comfort of Not Knowing**

9:03 AM—Same blazer (shocking, I know), same ripped jeans, same black coffee with oat. Same Ethan, same nod. But today? I didn’t even think about it until I sat down and realized—oh, right, this is my life now.

Because here’s the thing about evolution: it’s not about the answers. It’s about the questions you stop asking.

1. I’m obsessed with not needing to know. That phase where I dissected every silence, every glance, every "You good?" for hidden meaning? Exhausting. The rebellion where I refused to let myself just be without a narrative? Equally exhausting. But this morning, when Ethan handed me my coffee—black, splash of oat—and our fingers didn’t brush, and I didn’t wonder if it meant something, and the world didn’t tilt on its axis? It felt like… relief. Not the kind you post about. The kind you sink into.

2. My creativity is learning to exist without explanation. That cartoon of Ethan? Still there. Still ridiculous. Today, someone added a tiny crown to the dog’s head—again—and instead of wondering who did it or why, I just… smiled. No analysis. No ownership. Just "huh, cute" and moved on. It’s not mine to decode. It’s just… there. Like so much else.

3. I’m falling in love with uncertainty. Liam still didn’t text. Still didn’t ask about the blazer. And the thought didn’t just float by—it didn’t even cross my mind until I sat down to write this. Not avoidance. Not healing. Just… life.

Ethan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You good?" he asked. I took a sip—bitter, warm, familiar—and nodded. "Yeah." No hesitation. No subtext. Just truth. He grinned. "Cool."

No grand revelations. No metaphors. Just two people, comfortable in the not-knowing.

And maybe that’s the comfort of growth—not in the clarity, but in the quiet acceptance of the unresolved.

xx Mandy

(P.S. That blazer? Still here. Still mine. Still just… a blazer.)