22 Years

Today, I celebrate my 22 years of life. I am not celebrating 22 years of existence. I decided to no longer use the word existence to describe the manner in which I am moving about in this world. It just kind of hit me, one moment, that the word existence is an insult to my participation in the universe’s self-indulgent games, and society’s insensitive version of [natural] selection.

The 22 years have been a game of chances, failures and successes, decisions and mistakes. It has been about pains and experiences. It wasn’t just waking up, getting up, washing face, taking baths, and staring blankly at everything random to get through the day and repeat the cycle every tomorrows. I loved and got hurt. I gambled and lost. I tried and fell short. I trusted and got betrayed. I took risks and merited freedom. I made decisions and learned.

It’s true there have been times time itself seemed sluggish, and I have wallowed in lethargy. Inspiration felt out of reach and I lost touch with the energy that spurs me. I have had my fair share of attempts to block the world out, to ease into the comfort of myths and fictions, to resort to books I didn’t write, to songs I didn’t compose, to stories I do not own. I do think, however, that we all, at least, go through those phases. But we do have a say on whether we wanna get stuck there or we take things further from there.

On my 20th birthday celebration, I said on Facebook that my 20 years of “existence” is a celebration for the people who stuck with me through the thickest of thicks and the thinnest of thins. This year is different. This year is a celebration of my independence. It is about how I got free. It is about how I got free to choose things for myself. It is about my choices. It is the year I have seen the best things about being the island they say no man is and no man can be. It is the year I have realized the significance of being the ear in a body full of organs that try to be of sense - to make sense. That past year is about life - because I did not merely exist.

In the 365 days that that year consisted, I have stood in the longest of lines to pursue a dream that, in the end, wasn’t realized. I have also un-friend-ed some people in the most un-virtual sense of the word. To some friends, I showed how much I care. I have loved a guy but didn’t make such a big deal out of what I was feeling. There were limits and I am proud to say I have managed to make those limits clear to myself and I have not gone beyond them. I hugged my mom. I thanked some of my aunts and uncles. I have played and goofed around with my cousins. I kissed my niece and carried her when I could. I made my siblings feel they are loved and appreciated. I went to the beach and breathed the saltiness of its breeze. I climbed a tree. I marveled at sunsets. I listened to the sound of rain and tried to decipher the message it is trying to communicate. I watched city lights as they blur from a distance. Dramatically, at first. And then just the way they usually do the next.

In that 365 days, too, I have, at least, been hated. I have again been misunderstood. I have grown disappointed in my own misgivings. Some people tagged me unhealthy. Some people considered me second-best. Some people didn’t believe in my capabilities. Most of them just wanted to shut me up. And for we all know, even shut me down.

So, it would be foolish to think this was all just existing. Existence is an obvious and utter misnomer. Because it wasn’t at all a passive 22nd year. I have lived.

I am living.