November 8, 2025
“Not all who wander are lost,” said Tolkien.
It’s funny. When I was younger, travelling was the last thing on my mind. I mean, travelling in the sense of exploring, discovering, and experiencing the world. The travelling that came with wanting to run away and escape was different. I had more immediate problems and personal issues to worry about, never mind things outside of myself. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing external that would heal my internal wounds. So, I didn’t understand wanderlust — why anyone would want to experience other cultures, locations, and people was beyond me. I’d still remain the same broken person inside no matter where I went.
But, something happened. At some point, I found myself feeling content… calm, like the tumultuous storm I had been fighting inside my heart all these years had finally decided to let up. It was gradual. I’d originally thought that some grand revelation, some magic spell or incantation would disperse those dark clouds for good. But, as I hunkered down amidst the storm, holding on to the mast for dear life, the storm slowly subsided on its own, and I was free.
After all those ultimate, final letters to Danika, and after all the definitive (and short-lived) declarations of sanity, what helped the most was working on my own expressive competency and confidence.
In practical terms, I got my resources together and hired someone to practice improv with me. I got someone else to help practice conversations with. I got a speaking teacher to help me with my diction, breathing, and enunciation. I created a guild in an MMO and led people to victory and laughter. And, I found I wasn’t bad at it. I practiced, and although not perfect, I found I could communicate my feelings and ideas the way my heart wanted.
Maybe after living in the shadow of inadequacy all this time, being “good enough” was within reach. Maybe I’d come far enough to live up to my own standards. Maybe this is what’s meant by being able to accept yourself.
Maybe my depression was a state where I just couldn’t live up to my own standards, and once I did, it dissipated. For someone who spent life being unable to express himself, that became the key to happiness.
Now that the storm has subsided, I can begin to see the ocean, the land, and skies around me. I also see people. People enduring their own personal storms. People fighting for their lives. People drowning.
Others, seem to have never dealt even with rain. How are they and I alike? How are we different?
The storm has gone, and I can observe those around me. We are the same. We share the same struggles, the same hopes, and the same joys.
To live, to love, to survive.
I want to see if this is true. If it is indeed true, it means that I can relate and communicate that much more intimately with the world.
When I moved to California years ago, I found kindness. When I moved to Texas last May, I found the same. When I journeyed to the East (actually, to the west), to Korea and Japan, I found the same thing… the same kindness, the same struggles, and the same humanity.
The Go Congress was in Austin, TX this summer. When I went, I realized just how long it had been since I ran away and moved there. I spent a day, armed with my scooter, revisiting the landmarks from my past. So much had changed, yet it was so familiar.
The hostel I’d stayed at near the river was gone. Alpha Delta Pi’s sorority house was still standing. 6th Street was a bit more run-down, but I recognized the alley where I saw a girl bearing a resemblance to Danika. The bars I played in were long gone. The house where I fought with my roommate that one bloody night? It was gone… now just a few square feet of gravel and grass next to a corporate parking garage.
I was a different person then. A vessel of sadness, darkness, bitterness. As I wandered around, bathed in the wave of nostalgia, I felt a sort of cathartic conclusion, like a soldier returning to the site of the battlefield after the war. The battlefield isn’t the place I remember. It’s changed. But then again, so have I.
And, suddenly, I begin to wonder what else the world has to offer. If there are any other mysteries left to solve, or battles yet to be fought. For what is a soldier without a battlefield?
I recently read through some of my old journal entries. It’s simply comical how many times I declare I’ve closed the mental chapter on Danika, and not even one entry later, I’ve relapsed.
This time was more of a quiet farewell. There was no sense of ceremony, but at least this time, it’s real.
However, she did leave me with a gift — the drive to grow. To continue evolving as a person, as a human being. This time, that growth may manifest as connection and relating to the world. The specific medium is a side note. Whether it’s music, art, video, prose, or poetry, I have the means of expression. I have something worth communicating. I have a life of experiences by which to inspire.
The last time I felt like I wasn’t growing, I felt trapped and frustrated. I’ve hit that roadblock again, but this time the feeling is different.
I’ve stretched my job as far as it will go. I stayed for almost a decade. When I started, I was desperate to prove myself. Not to my boss nor my coworkers, but to myself — that I could keep a job and stick with something long term. I knew I could, and I did. I learned a lot working a steady job, and I’m grateful, but it’s time to move on, and discover the world that I’ve been missing out on.
This time I feel more at ease, like I can handle anything the world throws my way. I know this is the next natural step for me. To be a traveler. A pilgrim. A wanderer. But, I’m not lost. Not in the least. I know exactly who and where I am.
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