I’ve been a lot of different versions of myself already.
Some I planned for. Some I definitely didn’t. Some I thought would last forever, and some I’m very glad didn’t. 🤭
I’ve been the girl figuring it out, the nursing student, the nurse, the wife, the mother, the woman who somehow found herself in front of a camera — and probably a few versions in between that don’t need their own title.
And lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what comes next.
The funny thing is, I don’t actually know.
For most of my life, I’ve always had something I was working toward. The next accomplishment. The next idea. The next thing I could build, learn, experience or become. I still have that in me — I don’t think that part of me is going anywhere.
But I’m starting to realize that maybe I don’t need to have the whole thing figured out before I begin.
These journals are part of that.
Not because I suddenly decided I need to put my entire life on the internet. Absolutely not. 😂 Some things are better kept for yourself.
I’ve actually been writing for years. I have physical journals filled with thoughts, ideas, memories and pieces of my life — all collected over the years and currently piled up in my office.
And honestly? Keeping everything tucked away in notebooks isn’t really working for me anymore.
There are parts of my life I want somewhere to keep. The places I go. The things I learn. The risks I take. The beautiful things. The mistakes. The ideas that turn into something — and probably a few that don’t.
I want somewhere to keep it all.
Not everything. Some pages will always stay tucked away in my office. 🤭
But some of them belong here.
For now, I’m in my thirties, still curious, still ambitious, still changing my mind.
So this is where I’ll write some of it down.
A new chapter.
What happens next?
Quién sabe? 🤭
— Perla ER