What’s worse than falling for someone in secret? Being rejected by them if you confess your feelings? I used to think so. Then I realized my heart didn’t break after they said no but it did when I watched them choose another.

This week I finished reading a book called What you are looking for is in the library by Michiko Aoyama. A book I had gotten over a year ago at Waterstones when I was in London. I remember carefully packing it in my carry on, making sure the layers of clothes would act as a protective barrier between my precious book and whatever else would eventually be stuffed in there.

In the grand scheme of things, I don’t feel as if my life has really changed. When the clock strikes midnight, I’ll still be at home wishing I wasn’t, just like the previous year. I also didn’t find the love of my life, nor make new friends or even get a better paying job. And the manuscript of the story idea I’ve been working on sits unfinished, my dreams of being a published author unmet. I have failed to achieve the invisible milestones that society dictates a woman should have at my age.