The Nacho Vision Board

I decided to make a vision board this year. I didn’t want it to be random — I wanted something that really represented where I’m headed. So I started gathering what mattered most: a few sturdy chips for structure, melted cheese for abundance, guac for emotional stability, jalapeños for courage, and salsa for whatever part of life is supposed to be exciting.

I took my time with it. Each layer felt intentional, symbolic. I stepped back to look at what I’d created — warm, messy, full of potential. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt real. Something I could believe in.

And then I realized the truth: this wasn’t a vision board. It was me. I am the vision board. Unstable in places, layered in others, constantly on the edge of collapse but somehow still holding together — covered in hope, heat, and way too much cheese.

So naturally, I ate it. Every goal, every intention, every carefully constructed dream — gone. Turns out, all I really made was a platter of nachos. My vision board. My masterpiece. My lunch. And honestly? It might’ve been my most productive year yet.