Charlotte Eriksson:
Swedish (Gothenburg), author, songwriter, dreamer, wanderer.
I’m not everything I want to be, but l’m more than I was, and l’m still learning.
It’s July and I have hope in who I am becoming.
The line is essentially a self-forgiveness and self-trust mantra. It’s actually the closing sentence of a longer passage, where the speaker describes carrying belief in every scar and painful word ever spoken to or about them, because those experiences are still teaching them something. They describe making peace with themselves — “shaking hands” with their own head and heart, agreeing to work together since they still have places to go and people who need them — and from that reconciliation comes the closing thought: “So I have hope in who I am becoming. It’s July and I have hope in who I am becoming.”
The “It’s July” framing ties the sentiment to a specific point in the year — the midpoint of summer, past the halfway mark, a season often associated with warmth, growth, and renewal. Rather than despairing over past mistakes or pain, the speaker treats July as a marker of ongoing transformation: proof that they’re still becoming someone, and that this process is something to feel hopeful about rather than anxious about. It’s popular as a July/summer quote precisely because people use it to mark personal growth at the year’s midpoint — a small check-in with yourself that says “I’m not finished, and that’s okay.”
Origin:
The line comes from Charlotte Eriksson’s book Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself, a collection of poetry/prose reflections. She also posted the line to Instagram under her handle @justaglasschild, attributed to the same book. goodreads
Author:
Charlotte Eriksson is a Swedish author, musician, and blogger known for confessional, diary-style poetry about mental health, self-worth, and identity. Her other well-known book is Empty Roads & Broken Bottles.
Take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more. You’re doing just fine.
It’s January, and I’m kicking snow off the ground. I just threw out the flower you made me promise to water, handle with care because I was too careless, you said. Careless with things and people, around me and behind, and I remember being still for just a second or two, thinking that it’s so much easier to leave and start anew than take care of what’s already here.
Dear world, I am excited to be alive in you, and I am thankful for another year.
