This year started out slow. The Lunar New Year cycled towards January instead of being in February like it usually is. My extended family visited for the celebration, and I distracted myself from a recent aching with their prescence.

I spent February going to the gym and waking up at 7 a.m. for driving lessons. I started sleeping early and establishing a healthy lifestyle with a hint of an eating disorder. It was nice and peaceful and also the first time my family had celebrated my birthday with me in years.

I travelled alone to Japan after my plan with a friend fell through. It was freeing and suffocating at the same time. I thoroughly enjoyed disappearing into the crowds of people and enjoying the beautiful sights of cherry blossoms.

I went back to my spring cycle in April, save for the one week I was allowed to go back to Hanoi when I made plans every day to catch up the friends I still keep in contact with. I liked being busy with nothing in particular and being free from the trappings of a routine.

The highlight of my May was when I accompanied nlinh on a summer camp-esque trip to Vung Tau, which I’m sure will have its own blog post very soon. My brother also returned for his summer break, and I revitalised my love for reading after reading Horrorstör that month.

June was quintessential summer. We were at the beach swimming every day, driving home only when the sunlight waned. I also toured Japan again—this time with company. We ran into so many shenanigans but emerged triumphant and with a nice tan as proof.

July bore witness to miscelaneous family trips and the prospect of my family actually becoming functional. Of course, what stood out was my trip to a rather unconventional Europe, complete with an exhaustive list of mutton dishes and a discouraging amount of treading.

August felt like the end of the year—the end of the world—to me. I only started to realise then how little time I had and how I would soon be leaving everything I knew behind. I spent my time driving, bonding with my family, panicking, and saying goodbye.

September was an overwhelming mess of a month when I felt uneasy and lost but simultaneuosly excited and numb. I started my time at university, accidentally stumbing into the best people I have ever met and coasting by without doing more than the bare minimum.

October flew by after I started settling into my new routine at Dartmouth. I felt love and loved, and, other than temporarily hadicapping myself on an unfortunate scooter accident, the month passed by peacefully—somehow both uneventful yet still memorable.

November was an anxious month of preparations. Excessive amounts of takeout and 4 a.m. marathons in the s*ggs building built up to one snowy evening and three shiny notches on my transcript. In other news, I was indeed thankful on Thanksgiving in Chicago.

If my year summited in July, then December was a welcome aftershock. I travelled to the UK, where wistful longing and Michelin-starred meals awaited me. I then headed home, where time seemed to have stood still waiting for me, before jetsetting around the country.