kintsugi

A few months ago, I walked away from something I thought was going to be my entire future.

It was one of those opportunities that looked perfect on paper, the kind you're told to hold onto no matter what, the kind people congratulate you for, the kind that makes you feel like if you let go, you're throwing away everything you worked so hard to build.

So I held on, even when it stopped feeling right, even when I started to dread waking up in the morning. I told myself I was just tired, that it would get better, that walking away would mean I failed, that people would look at me differently, that I'd be proving everyone right who ever doubted me.

But the longer I stayed, the more I felt like I was fading.

There were nights I couldn't sleep because my chest felt so heavy. Mornings where I'd stare at the ceiling wondering why I felt so empty when I was supposed to be living the dream. I smiled through it all and kept showing up, but inside I was running on nothing. I stopped creating, stopped feeling curious, stopped feeling like me.

The worst part? I knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to admit it because admitting it meant making a choice I wasn't ready to make.

Then one day I realized I was so focused on a future that might never even exist that I was missing the only thing I actually have. Right now. That's why they call it the present. It's a gift. And I was wasting mine by staying somewhere my heart had already left.

So I left.

It didn't feel like relief right away, it felt terrifying, like free falling with no idea where I'd land and like I had just erased my whole identity and had no clue who I was without it.

For a while I just sat in that emptiness. I didn't know what I wanted anymore or what I was good at, and I felt like a stranger to myself.

But somewhere in that quiet, something shifted.

One night at 2am, I came across a random TikTok of a Japanese woman filling the cracks of a broken plate with gold. It's called kintsugi. When pottery breaks, instead of throwing it away or hiding the damage, they repair it with gold. The cracks become part of the piece. They're highlighted, not hidden. The idea is that something becomes more beautiful because of what it went through, not despite it.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

What if I wasn't broken in a way that made me less? What if all of this, the pain, the confusion, the starting over, could become part of something beautiful?

I started small with tiny habits, things that felt almost too simple to matter like drinking water in the morning, getting my steps in, and going to the gym. Nothing impressive, nothing worth posting about.

But they added up.

Each small win felt like filling a crack with gold. They gave me structure when everything felt uncertain. They reminded me that I've figured things out before and I'd figure them out again. Slowly, I started to feel like myself again. Not the version of me that was performing for everyone else, the real one.

To keep myself on track I built a habit tracker, just for me at first. I was tired of writing my gym progress on paper, so I made something simple to log it instead, something to hold onto while I rebuilt my confidence and discipline and a way to pass time and scratch my creative itch.

I had no idea what it would turn into.

As I kept working on it, I thought back to when I used to play Genshin Impact. Logging in every day to do my daily quests became something I actually looked forward to because I loved spending time with my characters. That feeling reminded me of how much I missed doing things with my friends.

So I started building features that let you use the app with other people, progress together, and build that sense of showing up for each other.

Then my friends started using it. I watched them check in day after day, working toward their own goals. I saw them fighting the same battles I fought, feeling lost, feeling stuck, wanting to change but not knowing where to start.

That's when it stopped being just mine.

I kept building. I created Yoru, my ghost jelly mascot, and the twins Mimi and Momo. What started as a tracker became a whole world. Characters with their own stories, a place that felt hopeful, a place I wished existed when I was at my lowest.

This project grew out of feeling completely lost and just craving to do something. I ached for that old feeling of being so consumed by something that it's the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I touch before I close my eyes. And now, for the first time in a long time, I have that again. I feel like I'm building something that actually matters to me.

If I learned anything from this experience, it's that you don't really know when the change you're looking for will come.

I've felt this before but forgot. Building this project reminded me that things only make sense looking back. What started as a random habit tracker to log my gym progress turned into an app with a world worth building. The features, the story, the design, the ideas, none of it came to me while I was sitting still and planning. It all started flowing as I kept pushing code. One thing led to another, then another, then another.

That's the lesson. Stay in motion.

There's this thing called Newton's first law. An object in motion stays in motion. An object at rest stays at rest. It's physics, but it's also life. When you keep moving you build momentum, ideas come easier, and energy builds on itself. But when you stop, it's so much harder to start again. You get comfortable, you get scared, and you convince yourself that tomorrow is a better day to begin.

And if you stay still long enough, you start to disappear. Not in a dramatic way, just slowly. You stop growing, stop discovering what you're capable of, and you never find out who you could have become.

That's the real loss, not failing, not falling, but never moving at all.

Starting over isn't nothing. It's everything.

It takes more guts to walk away from something that isn't right than to stay somewhere safe and miserable. It takes more strength to admit you want something different than to keep pretending you're fine.

If you're reading this and you feel stuck in something that just doesn't fit anymore, I want you to know you can leave. You can just stop and move on, even if nothing is technically wrong, even if it looks good on paper, even if everyone around you thinks you're crazy. You're allowed to want something different. You're allowed to follow what your soul is asking for.

You're not broken in a way that needs to be hidden. You're broken in a way that can be repaired with gold.

Stay in motion and trust yourself. That quiet flame inside you that you've been keeping small? It's still there, and it's waiting for you to finally let it breathe.

This is Kintsugi. You'll be okay.