It is March.

And this space has been quiet since December 2025.

I didn't forget that I haven't written since December. I knew. I just didn't come back. Not because there was nothing to write about. But because there was too much and I did not know where to begin.

January did not start gently.

I entered the year already preparing for exams. There was no slow easing into 2026. Just notes. Projects. Deadlines. Reading. Rereading. 

By the time January was almost ending, exams had already begun. Eleven courses. I am still not sure how I did that.

I was not just studying. I was fighting for my life in exam halls. And outside of them too. Because somewhere between trying to pass and trying to stay sane, I realised I was very tired. The kind of tired that sleep does not fix.

January was also heavy for me for another reason.

It marked a year since a friend passed.

A whole year.

I thought the first anniversary would feel different. Maybe softer. Maybe lighter. It did not. Grief does not respect calendars. It does not care that time has moved. It just sits where it wants to sit.

So while I was revising and writing exams, I was also carrying that. Carrying memories. Carrying questions. Carrying the strange reality that someone can be gone for a year and still feel present in your thoughts daily.

I wanted to come here many times.

BLOGSHOP has always felt like a safe place for me. A place where I can lay my thoughts down without needing to explain myself fully. Where I can be known, but only in the ways I choose.

But every time I thought about writing, I told myself to finish this phase first, to survive first. 

So I stayed away.

My semester ended on Friday, February 27, 2026. When I finished that presentation, I did not feel dramatic relief. I just felt quiet. Like someone who has been holding too many things at once and has finally put one of them down.

And now it is March.

It feels strange to say Happy New Year when we are already three months in. But in a way, this is my beginning. January and February were about surviving. Maybe March can be about returning.

I am not coming back with big promises. I do not know what this year of writing will look like. I do not know if I will be consistent. I do not know if my thoughts will be neat and well arranged.

I only know that I am here.

Still thinking. Still processing. Still grieving. Still trying. Maybe this is not a dramatic return. Maybe it is just me sitting down again in a space that has always waited for me.

The dust in this space is understandable. I was busy trying not to break.

But I am here now.

And we will go with the flow.