Looking back on the past year, it feels like I've been acting quite recklessly. Because I suddenly wanted to stay up late, I did; Because I suddenly wanted to eat omurice and takoyaki, I ran out to get them; People I suddenly wanted to see, words I suddenly wanted to say, thoughts I suddenly wanted to express... Countless instances of self-satisfaction piled up from spontaneity kept me immersed. However, looking back, that impulse to act as soon as a thought popped into my head was probably because the real me was buried in deep confusion. That is why I cherished the goals that appeared by chance so much.

I spent a lot of time thinking this year, and I also had many more doubts. To the point where for a while, my catchphrase was "I can't figure it out." Because of my doubts, I couldn't stop thinking, and because of my thinking, I kept adding new doubts. Perhaps the only answer I gained—which isn't really an answer—is that many questions cannot be explained by simple answers.

Three years ago, my message to myself was: "Forever young, forever on the road." Two years ago, it was: "Make a name for myself." One year ago, it was: "Beautiful things are on the way." All of them were half-and-half; I can't call them successes, but they weren't failures either. So, the wish on my birthday doesn't seem to have any obvious utility. However, as a tradition, I will still add a message for the coming year at the end. After all, a good life requires occasional deliberate rituals.

"Hello, 22. In this new year, I hope to meet a better version of myself."