2025 taught me something I never wanted to learn — how alert a woman can become.

When I think about 2026, I don’t think about resolutions or numbers on a calendar. I think about a man.

Let It Be About Us

🎄 🎄 🎄 HAPPY NEW YEAR!🎄 🎄 🎄 I wish every single person to meet that special someone! 🎄 🎄 🎄 Not to search endlessly! But simply to take the hand of the one who feels right and walk together into the new year 2026!🎄 🎄 🎄

I used to think that staying with difficult people, that being loyal to people who hurt me, that trying harder to make broken situations work—I thought that was strength. I was wrong. 🚫

Everything moves so fast now. Everyone wants immediate results, quick fixes, instant satisfaction. People don't want to wait for anything—not for growth, not for understanding, not for real change.

But I also have a human heart that gets hurt, and sometimes that human heart doesn't want to forgive. It wants to hold onto the pain, because holding onto it feels like justice. It feels like they should suffer the way I suffered. ⚖️

In the village, you don't need to prove yourself. People know your family, they watched you grow up, they understand the context of who you are.

It's this constant whisper in my head that tells me I'm not funny enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not interesting enough.

This is the time when you especially want to feel care, romance, and attention for yourself and your daughter!

💖💖💖Honestly and simply about what is important to me in a relationship and how I like to live.💖💖💖

New Year's is that time when even the most serious people suddenly begin to believe in miracles. We decorate the house, put up the tree, light the lights, and stop for a few minutes to ask ourselves what we really want.

I think about how strange and wonderful life is: one year is ending, another is just beginning, and we have a chance to change everything.

I always loved snow, a new year without snow is not the same atmosphere. Snow is always an addition to a good mood.❄️🎄

I'm just honest about different things. I'm honest about my doubts and my exhaustion and my refusal to perform. But I'm deeply, deliberately dishonest about other things.

My nature is to nurture. I like making things beautiful. I like taking care of people. I like thinking about their comfort and their happiness. This isn't because I was forced into it—it's genuinely who I am. But lately I've been wondering if I'm using this as an excuse to disappear.

Knowledge is what you get from books and learning and other people's ideas. I have a lot of knowledge. I read theology.

I can feel it happening every time. The first few days in the city are fine—I'm strong, I'm grounded, I remember myself. But then the weeks pass and the noise gets louder and somewhere inside me something starts to dissolve.

Everyone talks about being brave like it's something big and dramatic—like standing up to someone important or doing something that scares you.

Dark, cold evenings are my time. A time when I can disconnect from the hustle and bustle and create my own little, perfectly warm world. I have a whole set of rituals for this. First, there's the light. I immediately turn off the overhead chandelier. I turn on the fairy lights, place a thick vanilla- or pine-scented candle on the table, and turn on a small floor lamp with a warm yellow glow.