JORNAL ENTRIES

5/4/2025 it started with a simple question something I asked out loud that led to a bigger one: What radicalized me? The answer came like a wave, crashing through memories I carry so close to the surface. I knew, from a very young age, that people like me weren’t meant to belong not here, not on this land I stood on, not in the system I was born into. I can still see it clearly my baby sitter refusing to give me a snack. Not out of cruelty, but because I didn’t know how to say please in English. She kept repeating it, and I just couldn’t understand. I was a child, freshly uprooted, already being shown what it meant to be other. I remember being bullied relentlessly for being an immigrant. For my accent. For simply existing in a space that didn’t want me. Time and again, I’ve been told, directly or subtly, that my accent would hold me back. That no matter how much I tried to fit in, I would always be seen as foreign. These stories still sting. They still burn in my soul when I recall them. And I have many so many that I could shed tears just trying to line them up in my mind. But none of these moments broke me. None of them hardened me into hatred or cynicism. Instead, they made me curious. Why does the world work like this? Why is the system so deeply tilted against people like me? History started to answer some of those questions. I studied the structures we’re told to rely on, and they revealed their true colors. My encounters with others taught me something else: community is a choice. It doesn’t just appear it’s built. It’s wanted. And sadly, not everyone wants it. Many people are content to accept whatever story they’re told, as long as it fits neatly with their beliefs. I’ve chosen to believe in me. Because I’m still here. I’m still making it work, against odds that were stacked long before I was born. And then there’s the idea of God. That supposed loving force who, I’m told, will cast me into hell if I don’t worship him just right. That made me angrier. Because I’ve already been judged all my life by strangers, by systems, by rules I never got a say in. Why would I accept judgment from a divine being too? I am a raging queer anarchist Whisper the raging part because if I scream it, if I march too loudly, if I dare to speak too boldly, I know the risk. I could be deported. Silenced. Disappeared. But I’m still here. Still whispering. Still fighting



4/10/25 I’ll be honest I’ve always wanted a chosen family. Through this journey of self-discovery and growth, I’ve realized I haven’t been lucky enough to have best friends who are truly close to me. Friends who could reach my heart and touch it. And if I ever did have that, I must have lost it and I regret it instantly. There’s a disconnect I fear, one rooted in my experiences with people. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been searching for my chosen family. All I’ve really wanted is to grow as a person — to give this life meaning, filled with memories and love. Deep down, I’ve always longed for acceptance.because too often people refuse to see me for who I am. They either ignore who I’ve become, or they cling to the version of me that no longer exists. That version is gone. Rest in peace. I’m constantly evolving and constantly having to remind people of that. It’s exhausting. I haven’t let people in (on purpose). They use me, throw me away like a gum wrapper and somehow, I’m recyclable. That’s why I’m selfish. That’s why I keep people at arm’s length. I’m scared they’ll take pieces of me, like others have already stolen from me. And yet, here I am… longing for community. But maybe I was meant to be alone. Maybe I’m supposed to sit with myself and drown in the mystery of who I am. I’m writing a song — deep in this creative space because of all these feelings. So now I ask myself: Am I meant to be like this?



3/24/25 I’ve been forgetting things more than usual, and I don’t think it’s old age I think it’s the lack of routine. I feel off, tense, and, honestly, afraid. Afraid for my friends, for my family.I’m not from here, and good people—regular, hardworking people with families are getting deported. I no longer hold a green card, but I see how some people lack empathy for those seeking asylum or simply a better life.Today wasn’t the best for me. On my way to work, I saw a girl crying on the bus. I got up before her, stood in front of her to be discreet and told her, It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be ok. Now I’m on the train, writing my thoughts holding back tears like heavy bags of water in my arms. I wonder how much longer I can carry them before they burst. I am not from here, but today, something small brought me back home. My friends and I talked about it through text TIME TRAVEL! how one piece of sugarcane, one bite of that sweetness, gave me a moment of life, of nostalgia, of time travel. For two minutes, that simple treat took me back to my island. My coworker will never know much that helped me today..



3/19/25 note I rather be wrong than unwilling I rather be in a conversation where I think I’m resolving a conflict but I find out that I’m wrong. I rather be wrong because at least I made space for that conversation. I made space for a learning experience. I made space to hear someone out. I made space for growth. I made space to hold myself accountable. Unwillingness is just conflict avoidance (inspired by a vid i saw idk)



2/20/25 notes So, I got into an accident recently, which meant relying on public transportation to get around. At first, I was really frustrated with myself angry, even. But then, I decided to shift my perspective. Instead of dwelling on the inconvenience, I started asking myself: What can I learn from this experience? Every day, I’ve been taking a two-hour bus ride home from work, and strangely enough, time seems to be flying by. It got me thinking—what even is time? One random search led to another, and before I knew it, I was diving into the origins of time itself, questioning who (or what) created it. Somehow, I even ended up tangled in the mysteries of physics, like little cracks forming in my brain, letting in all these bizarre but fascinating ideas. Funny how a simple change in routine can shift your whole perspective.