February 2026

February is here and the ice is starting to thaw – but that’s not the only thing! This month is all about passion with Valentine’s Day heating things up and melting hearts! So, this month we sat down with Kirsty and Nikki to discuss what love is, and what it means to them. Come give it a read and fall head over heels for this lovely ZINE!

Kirsty (She/Her)

London —> Uwajima, Ehime

Nikki NcGlosson (They/Them)

Ohio —> Matsuno, Ehime

Kirsty

What would it look like to romance your own life this year?

“Romance your own life this year
not because no one else will,
but because you are the longest love
you will ever keep.”

What makes your heart beat faster that isn’t a person?

“The thing that makes my heart race

is not a name

or a pair of hands—

it is the moment before.

Before the curtain lifts.

Before the plane leaves the ground.

Before the rain finally breaks.

It is thunder rolling across a wide sky,

the way it gathers itself—

low, electric, inevitable.

It is a blank page waiting,

white as fresh snow,

daring me to leave footprints.

It is standing at the edge of the ocean

when the wind is loud and salt-heavy,

when the waves look wild enough

to swallow doubt whole.

It is the first note of a song

vibrating through a dark room,

bass like a second heartbeat

finding mine.

It is risk.

It is motion.

It is the door cracking open

to something I have never seen before.

Not a person—

but possibility.

That is what makes my heart

forget its rhythm

and run.”

What are you currently obsessed with—and how did it find you?

“Right now, I’m obsessed with kanji.

Not just memorizing them—

but the way they feel like tiny puzzles

made of meaning and history.

It found me slowly.

At first, it was just curiosity—

why does one symbol hold a whole idea?

How can a few strokes mean “tree,”

and two trees become “woods,”

and three become a forest you can almost walk into?

Then I learned that

日 is the sun,

月 is the moon,

and together they can mean “bright” (明).

And suddenly learning didn’t feel like studying—

it felt like decoding constellations.

Kanji found me in the margins—

in subtitles I paused too long on,

in notebooks filled with uneven strokes,

in the quiet satisfaction

of finally recognizing a character in the wild.

Learning is fun in Japanese

because it feels earned.

Each character is a small victory.

Each reading is a door unlocking.

It’s not just language—

it’s art you can pronounce,

history you can write,

and proof that patience

turns confusion into clarity.

And somehow,

the more complex it gets,

the more I want to chase it.

Like falling in love—

but with symbols.”

If February were about devotion instead of romance, what would you devote yourself to?

“If February were about devotion

instead of roses and candlelight,

I would devote myself to becoming steady.

To waking when I say I will.

To drinking water before coffee.

To answering my own needs

with the seriousness of a promise.

I would devote myself to the quiet work—

stretching in the blue of early morning,

reading pages that do not glitter,

saving money like planting seeds

for a spring I cannot yet see.

I would devote myself to courage

in small, unphotographed ways:

sending the email,

starting before I feel ready,

speaking gently when sharpness would be easier.

I would devote myself to my body—

not to shrink it,

but to thank it.

Feed it warmth.

Let it rest without guilt.

I would devote myself to finishing things.

To tending friendships.

To forgiving old versions of me

who did the best they could

with trembling hands.

Let February be a month of vows

whispered inward—

not “be mine,”

but “I am mine.”

Let devotion mean discipline with love,

routine with softness,

consistency that feels like care.

And by the time March knocks,

may I have built something quiet and strong—

a life not dazzled by romance,

but anchored by devotion.”

Write a love letter to something that saved you.

“To the person who was never there,

I used to imagine you

like a lighthouse at the edge of my worst nights—

steady, patient,

waiting for me to arrive.

You never did.

But in the space where you should have stood,

something else began to grow.

Silence taught me how to listen to myself.

Empty rooms taught me how to fill them.

Unanswered calls taught me

how to become my own reply.

I wrote you letters in my head—

pages of ache,

inked with questions that had no address.

I folded them into airplanes

and threw them into tomorrow.

You were the shape of what I needed.

You were the outline of comfort.

And because you were never there,

I learned how to build warmth

with my own hands.

I saved myself in small, stubborn ways—

by getting out of bed

when no one noticed,

by staying

when leaving would have been easier.

You were the ghost of rescue.

But I became the rescue.

And now, when the nights stretch long,

I no longer search the horizon for you.

I light my own lamp.

I sit beside myself.

I stay.

So this is my love letter—

not to the absence,

but to the strength it carved into me.

Thank you

for not coming.

Because in learning to survive without you,

I finally arrived.”

Nikki

What would it look like to romance your own life this year?

“Having patience for my needs, healing, goals, and growth.”

When do you feel most alive in your body?

When I’m active in some form. Normally I don’t even register that I have a body unless I’m using it, lol. My prior job was very physical, and I miss the constant training from time to time, but I’m always working with my hands in some form or another. It helps me feel grounded.

What do you love fiercely, even when no one else understands why?

Creation. The act of creation is in itself an embodiment of love, or at the very least an outlet for the strong emotions within us with nowhere to go.

What makes your heart beat faster that isn’t a person?

The act of expression. The extension of self in search of being seen and understood. Both in expressing myself, and witnessing the expression of others. You never know what you’ll see, and even sometimes who you’ll become.

Write a love letter to something that saved you.

A love letter to the Public Library.

For the sanctuary that nurtured the tiny, scrappy kid missing teeth I used to be. Whom everyday, after school, rode their bike to its doors with a milk crate bungee-corded to the luggage carrier. Ready to pile in and devour books, comics, movies, and video games.

My endless love for the service that narrowed the poverty divide between me and my more well-off classmates via access to resources I couldn’t afford to own. My gratitude for the company of librarians who kept calm company in place of the neglectful and hostile adults that awaited me after sunset.

My endless adoration to the gateway that fed my growing mind, which made me believe I could build a better life than the one I was born into with my own will.

I would not be here without you.

What part of yourself deserves more tenderness than you give it?

Desire for lasting connection. I have not had a solid foundation of support for most of my life outside of my grandparents, and I’ve lost one of them to illness right before moving to Ehime. They are the only home I’ve ever truly had, and when I lose them both I will be alone.

I am a very independent person, and I have done (and will continue to do) very difficult things alone for most of my life. But after some very intense emotional happenings I’ve come to realize that I want a foundation I can rely on outside of myself too.

I want a home with people who value me, and are dedicated to making me feel like I am important to them mutually. Holding space for that is something very new to me, but I’m trying to be patient with myself in the face of this realization.

What are you currently obsessed with—and how did it find you?

Language and culture. Being a language teacher has really opened the door for intercultural connection in ways that a tourist never really gets an opportunity to engage in. Being able to immerse oneself in someone else’s life often holds up a mirror to your own. You question why you use words, idioms, and cultural aspects you grew up with in comparison with the new people you meet.

I want to be able to create closer connections with people from around the world, and learning a language is one of the best ways to open that door. The two best are language, and food (in my opinion)!

What kind of love are you done chasing? What kind are you choosing instead?

The potential of love with people who are unsure of me. I deserve love from people who are sure that my presence in their lives is something they want, who won’t let me love them one-sidedly.

I also need to be more aware of when this is happening, and have the good sense to recognize and disengage instead of hoping they will love me with enough time and effort.

I’m not hard to love, and I need to have the self respect to remember that.

Describe a ritual, habit, or place that feels like devotion.

Home. Home is devotion. Home is a shrine you build for yourself, designed for your worship and comfort. You paint the walls, fill it with your favorite things, memories, and people. You’re your most vulnerable, true self within its walls. It holds you through every twist and turn of life. What ‘’home’’ means to each person is highly personal, but I hope that regardless of its design it brings you comfort.

Who are you when you stop performing and start wanting?

A feral animal looking for my forever home, lmfao.

What do you want to protect with your whole heart?

My heart, and the people I love.

If February were about devotion instead of romance, what would you devote yourself to?

I plan to continue practicing devotion to my current, and future self by creating the path to a happy and fulfilling life. Even if it kills me.

What does passion feel like for you—quiet, loud, messy, steady?

It’s deep, and certain. I dedicate myself to the things that matter to me like a religion by default. I pour myself into it (probably more than I should), and it has burned me from time to time.

Write about a time you chose yourself, even when it was hard.

Coming to Japan to live alone chasing a dream. I truly think that this decision is the first thing I have ever done solely for my own benefit and happiness.

What would your younger self be proud of you for loving now?

They would be proud of me loving myself enough to chase my dreams. There was a time in my life when I didn’t believe I had a future worth looking forward to. I’m happy I pushed through anyway.

Hey, Mikans!

We hope you’re enjoying this month’s ZINE. If you have a story to tell, an idea to share, or just want to contribute we’d love to hear from you!

We’ll have a new maga(ZINE) post for you on the first of each month, so keep an eye out!

Interested in having your own ZINE? Reach out to us at themikanblog@gmail.com!