24 Feels Like…
There’s something quietly transformative about entering your mid-twenties. It’s not loud or earth-shattering, not like turning 18 or 21, when the world feels urgent and full of expectation. No, 24 feels… softer. More grounded. More personal. It’s not about the milestones the world sees, but the ones you feel within.
For me, 24 has been the year I started coming home to myself.
It’s been a season of shedding old identities, releasing outdated stories, and learning to sit with both the beauty and the discomfort. I’ve begun to understand that healing doesn’t always look like glowing skin and always looking perfect. It often looks like crying on the floor, setting boundaries that shake your foundation, or spending a Saturday night alone and loving it.
It’s the year I stopped asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and started asking, “What do I need?”
And so, I wrote a letter to this version of myself - a thank you to 24, a love note to the growth I’ve witnessed, and a gentle acknowledgment of the ways I’ve changed;
Dear 24,
You feel good.
You feel like I’m finally beginning to understand myself, truly understand my soul and what it needs to feel full.
You feel like peace.
Like being alone without feeling lonely.
Like learning to sit in stillness and actually enjoy my own company.
With you, I’ve started to find what brings me joy.
What makes my heart tick.
You are sea breeze on my skin and acres of green grass stretching endlessly.
You are laughter with friends - the ones who see me, the ones I feel deeply connected to.
You are the quiet shedding of my past, the gentle reaching toward my future…
But most of all, you are presence.
You’ve taught me how to slow down and savour each moment before it slips away.
You sound like music that soothes me. Melodies that calm my mind and invite me inward.
You’ve taught me to appreciate my life.
Not just the bright moments, but all of it.
The weight I’ve carried, the pain I’ve tucked away, the parts I once resisted.
You’ve shown me that I don’t have to resent the cards I was dealt.
That healing comes when I learn to hold them differently.
You don’t feel chaotic anymore.
You feel light. Free. Soft in all the right places.
You feel like joy - something I’ve been searching for, aching for, for so long.
You feel like my soul dancing through the clouds.
You feel like love.
So, thank you.
For being the year that opened my eyes.
The year that held my hand as I came back home to myself.
Without you, I think I’d still be drifting.
But you anchored me. Gently, beautifully, completely.
As I move through these final months with you, I do so with an open heart.
I’m no longer scared of what’s next.
I love you, with every inch of my being x
So to anyone walking through their own chapter, maybe you’re not 24. Maybe you’re 19 and overwhelmed, 27 and rebuilding, or 32 and still figuring it out. No matter where you are there’s no timeline for coming home to yourself. Your version of peace, of clarity, of joy, will arrive in its own time, on its own terms.
But when it does, you’ll know.
It won’t be loud or dramatic.
It’ll be soft. Subtle. Like laughter in the wind, or the first warm breeze of spring after a long winter.
Karina Jade