To Live Stitched

By Marissa Rotolo

Pepsi Smile🙂/ @phytoplanktonH2O via Pinterest 

“At 22 years old, I write in this journal knowing my life right now is fleeting. Writing/editing blogs, psychology classes, team dinners, even getting annoyed over parking spots & ring cameras: in one year from now it’ll all be different. This last fall semester at Miami has been a testament to the love I have gained, the growth I have done, the idea that all you need is love. A space to cry, to laugh, to support those you love, to sit in solidarity. These people have become me.” 

This is an excerpt from my journal I wrote on October 24th, 2025. This version of myself was grasping onto every moment and lunging toward the fleeting comfort she had come to rely on since first crossing the state border into Ohio in 2022. 

I wanted to revel in gratitude for what I had while I still had it. I think that version of myself knew this present version would one day need that reminder

But this excerpt didn’t make me yearn for a past version of myself—it reminded me how intricately complex life is, and how each season we move through carries its own quiet gift. 

There was a version of me who woke up every day at 6:30 a.m., hiked up a uniform skirt with a shield crest, and sat in class from 8 to 3. After school, she’d head straight to dance, then come home to eat dinner alone in the dark—everyone else already asleep. For a while, that was all I knew.

But then time does what time always does. Life cycles forward, seasons shift, and those days start to feel like a distant memory. And with every new phase of life, the one before starts to feel like a lifetime ago. 

I’ve tried on so many versions of myself—and I’m still evolving. How lucky is that? 

Maybe that’s the whole point: learning how to let go of nostalgia without resentment, and how to look forward with hope.

There are seasons of life I haven’t yet experienced, so many new versions of myself still waiting to be met. Every life I’ve lived is stitched into the fabric of the next. Life is vast and full, and we are so lucky to be here, living it. Our experiences are a gift. They show us discernment, introspection, and profound regard.

Living stitched means carrying every version of yourself with care—threaded through time, softened by memory, and held together by hope.

There are songs you haven’t heard, places you haven’t lived in yet, dogs you haven’t pet, sunsets you haven’t seen, and people you haven’t met.

Some mornings, I open my window just to feel the breeze. I sip my coffee slowly. I write without knowing where it’s going. These are small things—but lately, they feel like everything.

If this journal entry reminded me of anything, it’s that life is always shifting—and I want to keep falling in love with it, right where I am.

Every season of life is unfamiliar, because we’re meeting it for the first time. This is your first time on earth—and mine, too.