twenty twenty six
and maybe this means it will be a good one?
when I was younger, I loved collecting rocks, writing really bad poetry, and taking everything as a sign — especially numbers, and the numbers those numbers created when you mixed them all together. which is funny, because I always hated math and favored literature and philosophy and languages instead. one year (don’t ask me which; I couldn’t trust my concept of time even if my life depended on it), the number 26 followed me everywhere. clocks, streets, doors, license plates: it was always there. I figured this had to mean something, and so 26 joined 8 and 19, and became one of my favorite numbers.
so yesterday, when I came across this post from Chloe Grace Laws, I thought, oh, look, twenty twenty six. which is obvious, but, again: funky concept of time. and despite my distorted relationship with the passing of seconds and minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years, what I do know is this: some seconds and minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years, you’re just trying to survive. and that’s how I spent most of the last 731 calendar dates, despite setting intentions to do the opposite of just surviving.
which is a lot, but,
no but.
twenty twenty five arrived. january, faithful to its season, a rainfall of questions. a storm of thoughts, most of them blue like the feeling you get when it’s 5pm and already dark outside. I was fine, then I started thinking. july, here comes summer, and the haunting realization that wanting is not enough, not anymore. december, three hundred fifty days in to be more precise, asking when did everybody stop smoking? time flies when you’re not enjoying yourself that much.
and now twenty twenty six. twenty six. twenty six. and maybe this means it will be a good one. or maybe it’s just a number, like twenty seven or twenty eight or twenty nine. or thirty. or thirty one, or thirty two.
maybe, I should open a numerology book and leave substack alone.
so what is this all about.
I’m not sure,
if making resolutions brings any good luck or if that’s just eating the twelve raisins and wearing a specific underwear color when the clock strikes midnight.
but yesterday when I came across that post and thought, oh, look, twenty twenty six, I also thought, oh, look, making a list with twenty six items sounds fun. (watch me regret this once I reach lucky number 13)
have a mobility routine, and stretch my body more often
learn a new skill without the pressure of being excellent at it
diversify my breakfast menu, I miss having pancakes in the morning
have more fun with my wardrobe, good quality basics are great but so is a statement piece every now and then
go to the beach more often
more fun and more whimsy
go out more: to dance, to drink a glass of wine, to have a cocktail after dinner
write, write, write
remember that a bad draft is always better than a blank page
self-acceptance and self-trust > external validation
redefine the meaning of success and accomplishments, especially on a personal level
invest in therapy again
resist the urge to isolate when life gets heavy
more solo dates because doing things alone is healthy and spending time alone is also important
read outside
underline physical books without feeling guilty
watch movies because they speak to me vs because they’re letterboxd approved
remember that I have free will
play word chain and sudoku when I’m bored, or research any topic that comes to mind, instead of automatically reaching for my phone
get that damn alarm clock so I can finally start sleeping without my phone in the bedroom
be a better observer, pay more attention
consume outside my comfort zone
invest more in writing as a craft, go to writers hours more often and writing workshops without feeling like I’m a fraud
take random days off work with no holiday plans, just to do things I love that I rarely get the chance to during weekdays, like catching a movie at 3pm
more weekends away, in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but trees and silence, and the occasional sheep baa or church bells in the distance
live.
happy 2026. may the dua lipa / addison rae / name any fabulous, well-read, unbothered person lifestyle find you next year. have fun. be whimsy. go crazy. crash out. and then get high on peace and quiet.










So I guess I'm not the only one being haunted by a stubborn little number! My ghost is "22" 👻 Hoping we all live more instead of just surviving ❤️
Loved this post! Gostava de ter força de vontade para escrever 26 goals para 2026… a ver vamos. Adoro ler-te!