Dear Public Diary,

I recently watched a film called The Life List. It’s one of those light, cozy dramas — the kind that doesn’t ask for much attention, just a quiet evening and maybe a warm drink. But despite its simplicity, it lingered with me.

The story follows a young woman named Alex. After the death of her mother, she discovers a box of video CDs and a childhood wish list her mother saved. The twist? To receive her inheritance, she must complete every single item on that list — no matter how childish, silly, or seemingly irrelevant.

One quote that struck me was from one of her mom’s recordings:
“These aren’t just wishes. They’re little pieces of who you were before the world told you who to be.”
That line hit deep.

We all had those “silly” wishes once — dreams we whispered to ourselves as kids. Then life happened. Deadlines. Jobs. Responsibilities. Survival mode. And somehow, those innocent dreams faded into the background. But deep inside, they never really disappear. They sit quietly in the corners of our minds, waiting for the right moment to surface.

There’s a scene in the movie where Alex checks off one of the more playful items on her list — adopting a stray dog. She laughs, struggles, and eventually finds unexpected joy in the chaos. That moment reminded me: sometimes it’s the smallest, most whimsical goals that reconnect us with life’s sweetness.

When we forget those things — the ones that make us feel — we don’t live, we just exist. We focus on the checklist: finish school, get a job, marry, have kids, buy a house. And when time starts to slip away, we panic, make rushed decisions, or cling to any definition of success that seems acceptable.

“Time makes us scared to wait, scared to try again, scared to dream twice.”

That’s another line from the film I kept thinking about. Because time — or our fear of wasting it — is often what makes us bury our joy.

As millennials, our lives are wildly different despite sharing the same birth decade. Some of us are married, some are still figuring out what love even is. Some are raising kids, others are still learning how to raise themselves. Some are settled, and others are completely lost. And we compare. We wonder why some got it “right” and others didn’t. But who defined “right”?

Here’s the truth: none of us has it all figured out. Not really. We’re all trying. Some of us are succeeding silently. Others are failing beautifully. But we’re all longing for something.

As for me? I’ve always loved writing — pages of personal stories, movie reviews, thoughts I never shared. I used to think they were just for me. But now, I’m starting to let parts of them breathe.

I love learning too — right now, I’m juggling two different courses in two completely unrelated fields. It’s chaotic. It’s draining. But it also feels like me. I’ve always wanted to do a hundred things at once — so maybe it’s time I stop apologizing for that.

And I still carry dreams I haven’t touched yet. One of them? Buying myself a giant teddy bear — my size (and I’m small, by the way). I wanted one as a child but never had it. So I’ve decided: I’ll get one now. Why not?

“You’re never too old to do something that makes the kid in you smile.”

It’s never too late to make the child inside you smile.

So maybe that’s what we owe ourselves — not just careers and relationships and security…
but softness. Joy. Wonder.
A return to the things that once made us dream.

Because maybe the key to feeling whole again isn’t becoming someone new,
but remembering who we were
before the world told us who to be.

So tell me — what forgotten dream of yours is still waiting patiently to be lived?