things i no longer believe in

I used to believe that love, if real, never faltered. That it would stay soft, like morning light through the curtains, even when the world outside turned harsh. But now I know: even the gentlest sun can scorch, and love—no matter how sincere—can curdle in the heat of unmet expectations. Love is not a fortress; it is a field of wildflowers, vulnerable to storms, fragile in its beauty. It demands tending, and even then, some things will wither despite our best efforts.

I no longer believe in the neatness of closure. That one final conversation, one last glance across a crowded room, will tie everything up in a silk ribbon and let me walk away unburdened. Some endings stay jagged, some goodbyes echo for years, and some people leave without ever realizing they were meant to say something before they went. And sometimes, we don’t realize we needed to hear something until it’s far too late. We craft our own closure in the quiet of the night, stitching together pieces of what was, trying to make peace with what will never be.

I used to believe in fairness, that the universe had a way of balancing its scales, that kindness would always come back around. But I’ve seen the cruelest people thrive and the softest souls break under the weight of their own tenderness. Life is not a vending machine where you insert goodness and expect it to spit out justice. The universe is not a ledger, tallying up our virtues and vices, ensuring we each get what we deserve. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people, and all we can do is love despite it, give despite it, continue despite it.

I no longer believe in the permanence of friendships sealed with late-night secrets and pinky promises. People grow, people leave, and sometimes the ones who knew your childhood laughter will not recognize the person you’ve become. And that’s okay. Letting go is not betrayal; sometimes, it’s survival. We are ever-changing, and the ones who remain through each transformation are the ones who truly see us. But those who drift away were not necessarily false; they were simply meant to walk with us only for a time.

I used to believe that if you tried hard enough, if you loved deep enough, if you were good enough, you could make anything last. But now I know: some things are meant to be beautiful for a time, not forever. And maybe the real magic is in learning to love them anyway, even as they slip through your fingers like sand kissed by the tide. Not everything is meant to be held onto. Some things are simply meant to be experienced, cherished, and released.

I no longer believe that happiness is a destination, something to be reached after a long journey of effort and endurance. Happiness is fleeting, a firefly in the dark, appearing in brief, breathtaking moments. It is not the grand arrival at a perfect life but the small, unexpected joys: laughter in the rain, a hand held tightly, the scent of fresh coffee in the morning. It is here, then gone, and then here again, reminding us that joy is not something we achieve—it is something we notice.

I used to believe that strength meant never breaking, never showing weakness, never asking for help. But real strength is found in vulnerability, in allowing yourself to be seen in all your rawness. It is in admitting when you are lost and accepting the hands that reach out to guide you. It is in knowing that you don’t have to do this alone, that being soft does not mean being weak, and that resilience is built in the spaces where we allow ourselves to fall apart and be rebuilt.

I no longer believe in the myth of certainty, in the idea that one day, everything will make sense and all the pieces will fit neatly together. Life is messy, unpredictable, a puzzle with missing pieces and edges that don’t quite align. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe meaning isn’t something we find but something we create, piece by imperfect piece, in the way we love, the way we try, the way we keep moving forward even when we don’t have all the answers.

I used to believe in fate, in the idea that everything happens for a reason, that there is a grand design orchestrating our lives. But now, I believe in choices. In the power of decision, in the way small moments shape our futures. Perhaps things do not happen for a reason, but we can give them reason. We can take what happens to us and decide what it means, decide how it shapes us, decide to make something beautiful out of it.

I no longer believe in the idea of a single, all-consuming purpose, that there is one path I am meant to follow. We are not confined to a singular destiny; we are mosaics, shifting, evolving, made of a thousand dreams. We can reinvent ourselves, choose new roads, embrace different callings. The beauty of life is in its fluidity, in the infinite possibilities that lie before us, in the freedom to create and recreate ourselves as many times as we need to.

I used to believe that time healed all wounds. But time does not heal; it only passes. Healing is something we must choose, something we must work for. It is in the facing of our pain, in the willingness to sit with our grief, in the courage to open ourselves to love again despite past hurt. Time alone does nothing—it is what we do with time that determines whether we heal or simply carry our wounds forward.

I no longer believe that the past defines me, that I am bound to the mistakes I have made or the things I have lost. We are not our worst days, not our darkest moments. We are the way we rise, the way we learn, the way we choose to keep going. The past is a chapter, not the whole story. And while it shapes us, it does not have to cage us.

I used to believe in perfection, in the need to have everything figured out before I could begin. But I have learned that perfection is an illusion, a mirage that keeps us from ever starting. Life is lived in the imperfect, in the messy, in the beautifully flawed moments where we stumble but keep moving anyway. Growth is found in the doing, not in the waiting for everything to be just right.

I no longer believe that love is meant to complete us. We are not halves waiting to be made whole. We are whole on our own, and love should not fill a void but rather complement the fullness of who we already are. Love is not about finding someone to save us; it is about walking alongside someone, whole to whole, sharing the journey.

I used to believe that one day, everything would finally fall into place and I would feel complete. But now I know that we are always becoming, always changing, always unfolding. There is no final version of ourselves—only the continuous evolution of who we are. And maybe that is the most beautiful thing of all.

I no longer believe in a world that always makes sense, but I do believe in fleeting joy, in moonlit walks, in books that leave you breathless, in music that fills the cracks of your heart. I believe in moments, not guarantees. In soft places to land, not promises that everything will be okay. Because sometimes, it won’t be.

And yet, we go on. We gather the shattered beliefs, the worn-out dreams, and we build something new. Not perfect, not forever, but ours.

Thank you so much for reading this newsletter. I know I am inconsistent but the fact that people actually look forward to my silly newsletters is still shocking to me. Thank you for making me feel loved, heard and seen.

I love you all a lot.

Yours

Kritz

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