New Year’s was looming. I still hadn’t hit my Goodreads challenge of reading 20 books in the past 365 days. So I changed it last minute, down to 15. I could quickly finish a few books and start another one in just under a month, right? I thought to myself.

December 31st arrived, and I had only read 12 books. I felt disappointed that I didn’t reach not just one, but two numerical goals I made for myself. But then I sat and actually looked back on all of the books I read. Some were forgettable, some were discussed over wine and pastries at book club, some I couldn’t put down. And it dawned on me: that’s what matters, not a performance metric I set on an app.

This has always been my struggle with anything New Year’s-related: the idea of tracking resolutions over a long stretch of time. Am I reading a book because I enjoy it, or just to cross it off a list? And trust me, I love checking things off, but I don’t want the fulfillment from my hobbies to come from that. I don’t want them to feel like tasks I completed.

I read books in 2025 that I didn’t even want to finish. I could’ve put them down and started something else, but I felt like I had to track them or else it didn’t count. Why do I internalize the idea that trying something and deciding it’s not for me is a waste of time? Doesn’t that actually open the door to other opportunities, or mean I’m one novel closer to my favorite of all time? Maybe putting those books down would’ve meant reading fewer this past year, but it also would’ve made space for the ones that changed me and sparked new curiosities.

For 2026, I’ve made no resolutions. Simply because that word alone gives me an anxious feeling, and also because there isn’t anything I necessarily want to change within a year. I prefer smaller shifts that often make a big difference. Instead of goals, I think of them as choices. I can choose to stare at my phone before bed, or I can choose to read another chapter. I can choose to work from my chair all day, or I can choose to get up and take myself to a café.

This year is all about being whimsical – finding the hidden magic in anything and everything. Looking forward to the future instead of being scared of it. Thinking about all the ways that life can go right instead of wrong. Reading and writing because I want to, not because they’ve turned into another chore. It’s unfortunate how easily the things we love can start to feel like obligations, but noticing it is the first step. And once I’ve noticed it, I can change it at any moment. We get to decide how we measure our own success.

So if, at some point this year, I open Goodreads and feel disappointed by the number staring back at me, I’ll remind myself that even if it’s just one book, the story is why I’m here.