sparking blog

when i was 19, i wrote a piece called “not mine” and depicted the yearning for a life that is not mine. i begged for a story that was not mine. everything i lived and the way i lived them made me crave for a life that was not mine. then, on may 13, 2023, when i was just about to turn 22, i wrote this.

“i moved into a new flat with one of my best friends. the flat is just like the ones i dreamt about when i was a kid. so, the child in me is probably very happy. i finally found her a place to be. a place where she can belong. a real home to feel safe and loved in. we also have a cat, she makes the house a “home”. i think i really found a place for my inner child to finally feel safe in so that i can move on with myself.

i can perhaps finally turn to myself and give myself the time and space to grow and glow. i can write for myself again, i can read books again, i can drink coffee for just the melancholy and peace of it. these are my last days in 21. i’m turning 22 in 19 days. i wonder what is there to come. will i fall in love? will i write poems? will i find myself and take her with me to the next date i go?

in any scenario, this is a new life. and every piece of it is mine. that feels amazing. every piece of it is mine. a story that is mine. and i do not think i want a story that is not mine anymore.”

today, i am 24. and i am cautiously optimistic that the marvelous and creeping feelings of new beginnings will find me again. and perhaps life is all about endless loops between craving for a story that is not yours and feeling glad that the story is finally yours. and for some reason, i can’t stop myself from smiling at my 19 year-old self and my 22 year-old self, just like i will smile at my 24 year-old self in a minute. because in a minute, those marvelous feelings of new beginnings will be knocking my door again. and in a minute, i will be glad that the story is mine again.