The Beginning

Writing a new book is a journey that not all are willing to return to. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to publish a book and have it be this grand, old thing. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I wished for all every writer looked for: fame, notoriety, wealth. But I was young when I started doing this. Nowadays, to return to the page is, what my mentor has told me before, a radical act of fun. What is the point of doing anything if it is not fun?

The dominos have begun falling for me. I am now acknowledging that I am getting older, and with age comes the inevitability of my body breaking down. Just the other day, I attempted to skateboard at a park that I usually have a session at. Things were great, until they weren’t. I had seen that skaters who I had seen cycle in and out of the park were infinitely better. They did not look the same, but they still had the essence of their youth that perhaps had called to them to skateboard in the first place. They were having fun. Meanwhile, I stood to the side in amazement, dumbfounded that even if I had been going for the same amount of time they had, I had no progressed any further. It was over for me, I thought. I packed it up and left the park feeling demoralized.

On the topic of partying, it’s the same tune. I had begun making new friends in the city. The city is a challenging place to make friends. You have to be willing to drop a few things in the process, such as your ego and dignity, in order to learn to roll with the pack. There’s also learning that the differences you share as humans are more pronounced the deeper the night gets. Some friends are willing to break night while others, like me, follow a strict curfew to ensure that the next morning isn’t a waking nightmare. I don’ t judge or shame those that choose to live their lives according to their rules, but I had to break a few of mine to learn that the only true connection still lies in the image of my 18-year-old self, someone who simply wanted to kick it because there was enough daylight to burn.

I’m new at this – returning to the site of where it all started. Writing is the only thing that has not failed me. I desire to read my words in front of people, but I know that there’s no need to find affirmation in how my voice sounds like anymore. I just know. I think about what my mentor has said to me when I had decided to take a break from writing. “The older you get, the better you get at writing.” Now that I am older, I am willing to put that to a test. I’m back on the path, and I want to rush to get to the end. But whatever this is, be it a book, a zine, or a piece, I know that I had enough courage to at least get it out of me.