The Expiration Date of Everything
It has been a while since I wrote something reflective, something that asks more questions than it answers. And on this penultimate stretch of the year, I find myself returning to the familiar terrain of loss, accountability, and the quiet logic of human behaviour. Loss, I’ve learned, rarely arrives in a single form. It isn’t confined to the absence of a loved one or the ending of relationships. Sometimes loss is the slow erosion of things once assumed—certainty, stability, the version of ourselves we thought would last longer. There was a time when I believed that careful tending—attention, respect, consistency—would keep people present. That if we valued them sincerely, they would choose to stay with the same intention. That belief felt safe then. But at twenty-five, impermanence feels less like a threat and more like a principle. People, circumstances, affections—all carry their own expiration dates. And understanding this has given me a steadier footing than certainty e...
