🎢 It’s that time in December when I usually reflect on the past year. 2024 has been such a rollercoaster of emotions for me. I have had sharp, cheerful moments—perhaps the most exhilarating I’ve ever experienced—and also deeply painful ones that dragged me to the abyss of life, leaving me questioning why I’m living.

2024 began with a series of accomplishments: finalizing my doctoral studies, graduating, and finally practicing as a doctor of science—my childhood dream. In my professional life, I’m in a place where I feel genuinely happy. Everything seems fine. So, in terms of achievements, what a year indeed! Those who know me or follow me on social media must look at my life and praise it. Why not? Even I feel a hint of jealousy toward my own Instagram life.

Besides my professional life, I’ve also experienced extraordinary and pleasant feelings—like never before in my life. I’ve had the happiest moments of my life in 2024. Moments that made me realize how enjoyable life can truly be. How colors can make sense, and how I can go to bed with the touches and smells still lingering on my body, as if I had spent a day in paradise. The first six months of 2024 were unbelievable. They embodied everything I had ever wanted from life—at least to the extent that is reasonable for an Iranian.

However, life is no picnic. Like all horror movies or tragedies that begin on a high note with beautiful sceneries, drawing you into a sense of comfort before delivering a sudden shock, my life turned from harmony and peace to chaos and misery. The entire world flipped around me. It turned out that life had staged a feigned retreat, luring happiness deeper into my heart where her troops lay in ambush.

Looking back, 2024 feels like a plane crash. The first six months were about ascending as high as possible, making me feel a happiness I had never known. Celebrating my 30th birthday was a highlight—it made me think the whole “quarter-life crisis” idea was nonsense. Nothing could be better than turning 30, moving to Copenhagen with a better life, and the prospect of building something beautiful together in a marvelous city that celebrates both art and science. In July, life felt like cruising in a Boeing 747-8, miles above the earth, traveling at 1,000 kilometers per hour, with drinks in hand and a Billy Wilder movie on the screen. It was that steady, that beautiful. But in August, the turbulence began. You could feel the uneasiness in the captain’s announcements. And then, the crash.

Most of the good moments this year feel fake now, as though they were meant to lower my guard and deceive me into believing that life could be trusted and happiness could be guaranteed. Life, however, was neither of those things. 2024 is ending with so many broken bones, unhealed wounds, and traumas that only God knows what it will take to mend them. I’m living now in the deepest valley of tears, searching for a rope to pull myself out. So far, I’ve gathered some pieces, but the valley is so deep, and everything around me feels tenuous. Like always, my eyes are fixed on the sky, seeking light.

As for my resolutions for the new year, they’re mostly about healing and writing or perhaps healing through writing. I plan to treat science as a side job, something to keep myself from starving. I’ve been more of an office worker for a while now, doing science only during working hours. Outside of that, my thoughts revolve entirely around writing. I’m determined to make this my focus. And yes, I know this could be the riskiest decision of my life—but I’m ready for it.

Throw roses into the abyss and say:

here is my thanks to the monster who didn’t succeed in swallowing me alive.

Nietzsche