november baby

this is the end! or the beginning? with a side of philosophical questioning and a nihilist in practice

Dec 08, 2025

Officially in my mid-20s now, as mid as it gets. I turned 25 this month, and as dramatic as it sounds, it almost feels like something is ending. I grew up imagining that 25 would mean marriage, a solid career, and a version of myself who felt unmistakably adult. Instead, I feel like a kid cosplaying responsibility.

Yes, dramatic. I know. I’ve always been that.

But 25 always held this big, glowing meaning in my mind when I was younger. I thought I would be living a life that looked very different from the one I have now. Not worse, just different. Media did not help either. When everyone on screen lives in impossibly nice apartments and seems to have their entire life sorted by 24, it’s easy feel like we’re behind. I assumed I would end up like the cast of Friends, sipping coffee in a posh New York apartment that no one in their twenties could ever actually afford or be like those journalists with fifty pairs of Manolos (I digress).

November only makes the reflection sharper. It has always been a tender month for me, the kind that presses on old bruises. Maybe it is because I am a sensitive girl with a sensitive heart. Something I spent years trying to toughen and polish down. November is my birth month and as a supposedly tough and vicious scorpio, I find myself also trying to cosplay that roughness as well. Somehow, I always end up as the villain, with my crime of being too sensitive. The tougher I try to act, the more estranged I feel from my reflection. I am not someone who wants to shout or live a life that requires me to be a tough shell. I want to be gooey, easy to read and maybe even easy to hurt, maybe that way, I know the ones who choose to hurt me, do so because they want to and not because I somehow deserved it. Maybe softness is not a flaw. Maybe it is the most honest version of me, even if it leaves me exposed. The truth is, I have never wanted to be untouchable. I only want to be met with the same tenderness I offer, at least that way I can recognize who meets me with care and who does not.

The irony is that sensitivity is also my strength. It is the part of me that feels deeply, cares deeply, and notices the small things. I was raised to take everything with a grain of salt, to build a tough shell, but November always reminds me that the softness underneath refuses to disappear, eventually the snow melts and the seeds must sprout. Maybe the months turning 25 taught me that lesson. I suddenly felt exhausted trying to put a brave face on. I think in some ways, it’s more brave to cry and admit to feeling hurt or ashamed. I’ve always felt braver admitting to others that I don’t know something or I haven’t tried something.

Maybe just food for thought for this afternoon.

The other day, I went hunting for journal prompts just for shits and giggles. Immediately, mistake. I came across a question that asked, “What is one belief you have that has changed and why?”

Confident as ever, I put pen to paper and then froze. I always thought I was nothing like my elders, who hold on to their beliefs as if nothing in the world could ever change. I was sure I would stay open and curious instead. Yet there I was, staring at the page with nothing to say. Damn it. No belief has shifted? That can’t be possible.

It bothered me more than I expected. After a long phone call with a friend, I finally pieced something together. Here is the shorter version of that whole mental spiral.

My belief that has changed: good things happen to good people.

I used to believe in this with my whole chest. I also believed in physics being applicable to our lives (I still do obviously), specifically Newton’s Third Law of Motion. The third law states, that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In my mind, this translated into a moral rule. If I put good into the world, I would eventually receive good back. Simple.

Except life is not Newtonian like that. It took this journal prompt for me to admit that goodness is not a guarantee. You can be a bad person and have good things happen to you. You can be a good person and have bad things happen to you. It is not deserved or owed or balanced. It is chance.

So why do we keep doing good then? Or bad? I think it comes down to what you can digest. I genuinely cannot live with myself if I hurt someone on purpose. That is really it. My moral compass is based on what I can tolerate when I look at myself. Goodness becomes a choice you make for your own peace, not a trade you make for future blessings. No bartering in life, I guess that’s what that one movie (Jab Tak Hain Jaan) was talking about, I thought the main lead was silly watching it but I didn’t realize that I held the same beliefs as she did.

Maybe that is what scared me about not having an answer. For so long, I believed that having a fully formed frontal lobe meant becoming stubborn, set in my ways, and unwilling to explore new ideas. I did not want to be closed off. I wanted to stay out of the tunnel.

If you have thoughts, I would love to hear them. I might be rambling like crazy on this full moon, I am craving a full socratic seminar on this exact topic, feel free to comment or argue or repost or share or whateverrrr.

Media I’ve been consuming:

Anything Anthony Bourdain, I’ve already read his book but I was craving something nostalgic so I’ve been watching Anthony Bourdain, parts unknown and no reservations. It’s been a refreshing watch.

Stranger things (duh)

Besides that, the rest of this month has flown me by truthfully.