the magic might come tomorrow ⋆˚꩜｡

i’ll be honest with you— like a lot of people, i’ve been struggling (financially, emotionally, spiritually, even) a lot for the last few years. it’s hard to keep up this practice (writing to you) knowing that i need to prioritize living.

all of 2026, i’ve asked myself the same questions every day, week, and month: “what is it that i really want to do? who do i want to be?”

i always drew a blank.

i’d come up with solutions that felt like me, but they ultimately weren’t. it’s hard to understand who you are when you’ve been told to be something entirely different by everyone around you for practically your whole life.

like clockwork, i always find myself coming back to this practice during times of distress- when things feel bleak, when i lose hope, when life gets hard. it’s funny how this works sometimes, writing feels like second nature, a sixth sense. it’s something that i simultaneously acknowledge and deny.

i always felt like i had to dwindle myself, to make myself easy to digest, to be palatable. maybe it’s because i value simplicity, maybe it’s because i know that if i can’t hook you within the first four seconds of meeting me, then i’ll lose you. and that reality actually scares me. so bad. in a world that demands your attention, who am i to ask that of you?

who do i do it for? why do i do it? what is my purpose? why am i here? what can i give? it feels like a sick and twisted mind game that throws me into a spiral— of shame, guilt, imposter syndrome, embarrassment— why does it feel like everyone’s found their calling? and when will it be my turn?

as i was conducting the universal experience of resting via scrolling, i came across a reel by isabel radford. the hook was simple, “if you’re thinking of giving up, here are some gentle reminders for you.” one of the very last reminders was, “the magic might come tomorrow.”

i sat with that for a very long time (and i hope you are too, dear reader).

it’s like the image of the man tirelessly working day in and day out, mining to find diamonds for who knows how long, sweating in his wrinkled white shirt and brown dress pants and shoes, hair disheveled. he’s about ready to give up, not realizing that the diamonds are just one more hit away.

the easy way out would be to “why me?” ourselves every time we doubt ourselves, feel shame, or want to give up. we could just as easily distract ourselves from ourselves— paying attention and prioritizing things that feel important and productive, but aren’t actually conducive to our wants and needs, hopes and dreams (or as they call it in tech [barf], moving the needle lol).

i write to you with a different perspective on my own life and creative practice. for a long time, i’ve paid attention to a variety of external factors to distract myself from the work. everything felt half-baked— my heart wasn’t ever fully in it because i never allowed myself to be in it.

the work itself is terrifying. it’s unfamiliar, uncomfortable, unsettling. but the work is always worth it. it’s worth it to try, to dive deep, to fully grasp something that doesn’t quite click yet. no amount of external validation will get you what you need.

the magic only has a chance to arrive tomorrow if we allow it to arrive.

thank you for reading :) for a long time, writing has been an amazing outlet for me to convey my true thoughts and feelings, and i’m so thankful to you, and i hope that you can relate in some way.

micah and i have been working on building quiet tuesday, and we’ve both been working hard to not only find where we fit in the market, but to find new clients and work. it has been admittedly really hard to build your own practice when times are rough.

if you’re willing and able, here’s a link to my ko-fi <3 anything helps, but no pressure at all. you being here is enough for me <3

sending love

jira xx