I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth.

Ovid, “Metamorphoses”

This past week, since returning to Taipei on February 10, has been one of my most gratifying. Increasingly higher ups, no downs – a sentence that sums up my three weeks in Taiwan so far.

Things have become so turbulent, that I’ve barely managed to give them proper documentation. As always, one could write about life, or live life. I will force the former while exhausting the latter.

Today is a prime example. It calls for introspection and celebration.

One year ago, I stayed at the highest ryokan in Hokkaido, on a snowy mountain in Daisetsu-zan National Park. The temperature was minus 15 to 25 degrees. I hiked to a frozen waterfall, got a surprise TV interview, a birthday cake, and soaked in my favourite onsen. I was alone, and it was my absolute best birthday.

16 February 2023 was a mere week into my trip. Two songs defined it.

So I just packed my baggage, and

Said goodbye to family and friends

And took a road to nowhere on my own […]

I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I can be tonight

I don’t wanna be alone forever, but I love gypsy life

I don’t wanna be alone forever

Maybe we can see the world together

Lady Gaga, “Gypsy”

This dream isn’t feeling sweet

We’re reeling through the midnight streets

And I’ve never felt more alone

It feels so scary getting old

Lorde, “Ribs”

This year, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to top this adventure. I simply didn’t have the budget. So I will spend it by myself at Beitou hot springs, to re-taste Japan.

I could’ve enjoyed the company of friends I’d made in three weeks in Taipei. In fact, ever since landing here, I didn’t really have a moment to myself. There was always someone keen on hanging out, going out, and spending time with me. I found myself running amok from one company to another. Taipei has welcomed me with open arms.

But today, I chose to recharge in spring water and ponder.

This past year was the best of my life. I did things I never thought I would – or could. I learned a lot about myself. And people. And I changed. A lot.

I know how I want to spend my life, now more than ever. I know who I want to spend it with. Small details in the mosaic of my existence sharpen out remarkably well sometimes, yet the big picture remains a blur. Like the opposite of an Impressionist painting.

So the only thing I can wish myself today is to never cease chasing contours.

I wish to never waste my precious time in this world, nor quit my passions.

I wish to pursue what I want regardless of rejection. I don’t want to beat around the bush or worry about a bad outcome. I want to be direct and hopeful.

I wish to dodge regret, because it will kill me more than any substance.

I wish to achieve my lifelong dreams of writing books, directing movies, making music, and traveling the world. This year marks the addition of a new dream: to find a companion.

I wish I were a different person.

As I get older, the convictions I’ve held since childhood grow stronger.

I differ from the vast majority of people. That is not a good thing.

I should spend my mortal existence mulling over its ephemerality in order to improve it.

I shouldn’t worry about food, accommodation, and acceptance. My loved ones should care about me as much as I care about them.

The trifles humans construct as hurdles continue to exasperate me. People play games, forget about you, and move on. Friends, family, employers, lovers: the nature of your relationship doesn’t matter. We inflict hardships upon ourselves through apathy and miscommunication.

I know that I wasn’t meant to come into this world. Not to the place I was born in, at the time I was born in. But at least the animosity I harbour toward the environment I was thrown into has taught me what mistakes to avoid.

Perhaps being born into the world my mind has been imagining since childhood would’ve prevented me from envisioning it to begin with.

Someday, I will write down this vision. Until then, I can only appreciate the fact that deep down, I detest human existence.

It is self-loathing that motivates me to do better.

So now I am left with one question. Will it get better? Or rather, can it?

Is this the most I’ll get out of life? The best I’ll bring out of people? The happiest I’ll be?

It is certainly the youngest.

Virgina Woolf once said, “One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.” I’ve never felt such fellowship, and I doubt I ever will.

As a teenager, I acted like an adult. I do the opposite now. I party, drink, dip my pen in inkwells; waste money, shirk responsibility, choose spontaneity; chase thrills and risk danger. I go on dates and open my heart, cry and smile, destroy my sleep just to have fun. I befriend in an instant and lend all my thoughts to my relationships with people, rather than to the enigma of life. I venture into mountains and outgoings blind, fly to countries with minimal knowledge, and the thing is – the more I mature, the looser I become, and the more I want to persist at this.

I can see myself partying like a college student even in my thirties. Is this proof of a young spirit, or an adult in denial?

If only I could turn 29 to 19.

They say that trans people go through two puberties. One as a teenager, and one after transitioning. They reinvent themselves, rediscover themselves, and try to make up for lost time. Without intending to, I’ve done that over the past year.

Life may be a carousel of disregard, disagreements, missed potential, and tethered years. But it’s also a rollercoaster of present moments. Dreading their consequence ousts their refinement. Imagining myself celebrating 30, 40, 90 – fearing everything that will or won’t come with those figures – won’t bring me comfort. After all, I couldn’t predict all that transpired between this birthday, and the last.

As a writer, this frustrates me as much as my inability to share my shoes with a reader. I can imagine a different world, yet this one, I will never understand the way it works.

I still want to experience everything it has to offer.

Do I have my whole life ahead of me to do so? Did I set myself up for a loss by staying home for years and writing in my room?

I know I have more to give. I’m not sure I’ll find reception.

After Taiwan, I will return to Israel. The last time I was there, I prepared for the end.

At this moment in time, though, I am a free bird, migrating with a pen in its beak.