22
Long time, no see, friends.
I haven’t put my thoughts to paper and I think it’s because of a variety of reasons. Part of it is because I don’t have a lot of time because I work so often. Another part of it is because I feel like I’ve lost, or at least dimmed, my voice. My voice — or just my thoughts, experiences, and source of light — has always been my purpose. It has guided the things I’ve done and been my drive.
But in the midst of so much happening in the world and in myself, I have lost a kind of belief in that voice. It’s felt like, if I put my thoughts and feelings onto paper, then that means something. And for so long, I’ve been afraid to write out how I feel (even in my own personal journal) because it makes it real. And there has been so much happening in the world that feels unreal. My body doesn’t make time to journal because it knows that the moment I write the thoughts I store in my mind, it becomes real and I refuse to let it be real.
I’ve accomplished a lot this 22nd year, and I don’t give myself enough credit or kindness because it has all been done out of necessity. Yes, it has been my goal to get a job (something I feared I wouldn’t do while I was in undergrad) and to buy my own car with my own money. I have travelled to SF with my then-best friend and I’ve gone hiking at a national park. I’ve celebrated birthdays and survived COVID-19 with my family. I got vaccinated and am healthy.
But there are things like moving to LA abruptly after graduation or therapy I’ve had to put on hold because of finances, that have made “life” choices as “survival” choices. These things are made out of survival and it scares me, to this day, that surviving is the only way my 20s can be lived.
I tell some of my friends that graduating during the beginning of the pandemic is traumatic. And no one can really speak to graduating during a pandemic except the Class of 2020, really. A piece of the trauma is feeling like working hard is futile — I worked hard for 2 degrees, and to not even see the lights on the commencement stage was a huge let down. It’s symbolic of accomplishment and pride that we were expected to feel from a TV screen (Class of 2020’s commencement speeches and acknowledgements were pre-recorded and broadcasted through UCI).
Everything thereafter has felt like, “Wow, what would it look like if I worked hard for my dreams? Will I ever attain them, just like this degree?”
Sure, sure — some may argue that real hard workers don’t let things like this stop them from pursuing their dreams. But the thing is, that quintessential moment of undergrad — the moment of commencement where one fully realizes the power and pride of hard work to actualization and accomplishment — is something everyone in their first year dreams. And it never happened.
Fast forward to today: I’ve felt immense fear and anxiety about a future of telling stories. I mean, Hollywood is already racist. Platforms, like TikTok and Instagram, are racist. There are misconceptions of “success” that are painted as white and it makes it feel almost impossible to believe that there can be a future out there for a brown, queer man like myself.
This has played a big role in my own personal life. From losing my best friend to dealing with childhood trauma re-surfacing and playing a role in the way I interact with loved ones, I have fallen astray from my purpose and who I believe myself to be. I really was on my worst behavior.
Before, I had opinions about narcissists and fuckboys. But here I was, acting like one. I know there are arguments to how one can’t be a narcissist if they acknowledge they might be one (it takes self-awareness to not be one). Yet, I acted narcissistically with someone who deeply loved me. And I hurt them in ways I have been hurt by my dad and past lovers. The way trauma can re-translate itself from the way people treat me to the way I treat others has been so profound and complex that it’s hard to admit humans are capable of causing so much pain.
This is all to say that the end of 22nd year was riddled with lots of pain, confusion, and darkness. The chapter started with lots of hope and slowly transitioned into a darker chapter, written out of fear and dishonesty with myself and what I wanted. There are themes of fear in it, that I still think about.
But, I am ready to joyfully let that part of my life go and open up a path for this next year. I am taking the steps to committing myself to manifestation and the law of attraction, something I started 2021 with. I am surrounding myself with good energy and my dreams again. I am making moves to open my throat chakra and sharing my voice.
Lastly, this 23rd chapter, this 23rd rotation is a year that I am attracting goodness into my life. It is the year I have faith in myself and my dreams. It is a year where I let my experiences in my 22nd year shape the way I step into this next year. It is a year where I re-actualize my faith in myself and what is in store for me. It is the year where I remind myself that God and the Universe have something better for me.
I am centering my thoughts and energies onto my body, spirit, mind, and heart. I am not chasing anymore. I am attracting and claiming. I am letting go of what does not serve me. I am letting God and the Universe in. I am letting go of only relying on myself to create my life. I am giving everything up to God and the Universe. I am aligning my chakras and opening each one of them for spiritual elevation. I am owning who I am and being more honest with myself as well as those around me. I am not walking in fear, but faith. I take each step with the knowledge that what is for me will come to me. This is what will guide the paragraphs I write in Chapter 23.
I am claiming it. It is for me.
And when I come back to write for my 24th year this time next, I will be proud of how far I’ve come and the life I’ve created.
