#i hope in the future maybe i have the courage to bring up autism but like.. eh.

[fallenfawnn]

..

[elonmusque]

The year in review.

I usually try to write one of these things every year because the new year brings up so much -- not only cultural reflection, but forced analysis. I am giving myself just 15-20 minutes to write this because, well, the truth is that every time I write these things, it’s never consistent. I don’t even know where my 2019 post is. Was it on this blog? Was it in a google document? Is my online storminess my worst trait? I don’t know.

But, it’s 1am on January sixth, and now seems as good a time as ever to write my year-in-review. I usually do a list of favorites/bests/worsts, stand-out times, random tidbits, and of course, harrowing emotional monologues.

Let us begin.

The bests of 2020: Alayna visiting me in Phoenix, January/February parties at Harvard’s most exclusive finals clubs, my lingerie-chocolate-sensual birthday party, Ben, writing two books, house-sitting Tommy’s house, binge-watching Beastars in the comfort of an enormous house while eating tomato soup, playing hours upon hours of piano, becoming the musician i’ve always wanted to be, reconnecting with Eric, watering my friendships, making music, meeting Coco, and bonding with my mom more deeply than I ever have. Oh, and destiel became canon.

The worsts of 2020: the hopeless cold solitude of Harvard and Boston, leaving my roommates, losing my passport, Tokki and Manny dying, my parents almost-divorce, breaking up with Megan and Aradhana, internalizing that life is chaos and violence. Oh, and destiel only became canon in Spanish.

It has been a long, hard, tough year. I am grateful to be alive. I still cannot taste well, though I can smell. I bought a grand piano. I renovated my brother’s old room downstairs, and now it is mine, and it is extremely beautiful. My parents and I live together now, and we are all trying very hard to do well in each other’s lives; we fail with mild frequency, but we try. I accept failure if the doer attempts to evade it.

I have also discovered new parts of myself worth knowing and understanding, which feels so beautiful. I am trying to understand the extent to which I repressed myself from a young age, because as I have begun to look back, all of my personality traits can be traced to my likes/dislikes/comforts. I used to listen to Garbage constantly; read mlm fanfic; write mlm and wlw fanfic; fixated on birds of prey, as well as read mostly about young women “becoming” themselves; and never really connected to men around me, at least emotionally. I understand myself now as someone who likes to have sex but does not like to dish out emotional intimacy at all. I also have started to take seriously the possibility that I may be on the autism spectrum; if I could explore this more, I have a feeling it might make my own life much easier.

My music has been a source of pride and inspiration. I am proud of what I have done this year. My writing, too, has empowered me; I still don’t think it’s good enough, but that is something I will likely never escape.

A lot has happened -- that’s what I’m trying to say. I ended things with friends, have started things with others, have undergone pain yet have felt love so great it makes me want to explode. I still believe in the possibility of there being a holy figure; I still think that the love I crave is out there, is possible, and can make me feel seen and desired for all of my flaws. Do I crave a christian god? Maybe. But i think i crave unconditional love, mostly -- something not offered through most religions or people, as love, as i have realized this year, is mostly contingent on how well one can obey another’s orders.

I’ve learned a lot. I’m still learning. New, exciting, beautiful things are on the horizon, and I believe in beautiful things and things being beautiful. There is a future for me; there is hope, love, courage, and meaning all waiting for me. I have to remind myself that I need to be there to see it.

Whatever, whoever -- I am here, and I am waiting.