 I was born and raised in California.
As a kid, I was taught the "American Dream." Be a college graduate. Get married. Start a family. Raise kids. Own a large home. Earn more than my parents' income. Work with one job at a company for a pension. Buy whatever you want. The people for the "American Dream" would remind me. If I don't achieve this, something is wrong with me. That's society for you. I'm 38 years old. So far, I've achieved one of them. It's being a college graduate with a BS degree. I haven't pursued the degree though. I don't want to. I'm not married. I have a girlfriend. We've been together for 6 months. I'm not rushing into it. I let her know. She understands. We have a few loved ones against us dating. It hurts. But haters are always gonna hate. We can't force people to change. It's up to them if they're willing to change. My girlfriend and I are happy with each other. That's what matters. I don't have any kids. I always wanted to raise one. If I don't have any of them, I'm okay. They are expensive. It's a huge responsibility too. Once I have kids, I should be a great parent for them since my partner and I made them. Most of my time will be with them until they're in high school. We choose our time. I don't own a house. I live rent-free with the parents. I can't afford a home. My parents' income is more than my income. I work at Costco. I'm the rotisserie chicken guy. I skew, cook, and bag the chicken. I've been working there since June 2024. I'm slowly getting a raise. More hours, more raise. A friend told me that I can do better. I can move up. But the pay is just a bit more. It's just the name and status. And I heard that the job will just be your life. You won't have time for anything else. Go with what works for you. It's a steady paycheck with benefits while I work on my side jobs in airport driving and junk removal. But I do wanna be a tennis coach. I was one at a tennis academy in Palo Alto for a year. My goal is to find at least one client. I'm working voice-over tennis reels right now. I'll upload them soon. I might get a lead from it. We shall see. Who knows? I don't buy whatever I want. I'm not rich. I prefer buying what I really need. The discounted deals get me. I admit it. I'm human. I've gotten better. "It's on sale. But I don't need it. Just good to see. I save money, "I tell myself. Most of my clothes are gifts. They're free. Thank you. We're helping each other. Hey Society. Say what you want. That's your voice. I understand. Thank you. I'll be me. Things change. Accept change. I'm happy where I'm at. This is my life. It's my "freedom of choice in how to live." I write about Uncle again. This won't be the last until I die. I'll start writing the letter to him now.
Dear Uncle Romel, My younger-self would bottle my emotions. Then, I would be a ticking time bomb. Anger would be talking. It was scary. I was a monster. I didn't talk to myself. I was told that you shouldn't. I didn't prioritize mental health too. You and my dad weren't in good terms anymore at that time. Relationships aren't perfect. I don't blame you or my dad. I wasn't there when you lost my sister's life in 2003. You regretted it. Your anger did it. You wanted to rewind time. But it was already too late. You froze right after it happened. I start to realize. That could've been me. You were me. You saved my life. But the worst part was my sister had to take it. My sister saved my life too. My younger-self was out of control. But I never lost someone's life. I got lucky. What if I lost someone's life, my life would be over. I would be hated, ignored, and neglected. No one would talk to me. I don't think I can handle it. That was you. In 2008, you lost your life. It was 5 years after you lost my sister's life. You couldn't take it anymore. You were my message. It's close to Thanksgiving. The holiday reminded me of you. I'm grateful for you. I forgave you in 2018. That was 15 years. It was a journey. I didn't get to forgive you when you were alive. I'm sorry. I love you. Your nephew, Mike Caceres  You're 37 years old. You still live with your parents. You're single. (You've been on dates. It just doesn't work out.) You don't have any kids. You graduated from college with a BS degree a while ago. You're not pursuing it. You don't have a full-time job. You're self-employed.
That's me. It might not be normal to you. What is normal?  People would give me advice.
They would tell my younger-self, "Follow your passion." It means going with what makes you happy. My younger-self wasn't passionate about anything. I hated school. I wasn't the smartest student. I always finished my homework in order to pass my classes. School wasn't my passion. My only escape from school was playing basketball and tennis. I would choose sports over school any day. Playing sports wasn't my passion though.  Your 11th grade photo given to me. You told me that the school yearbook didn't post your photo. Dear Sister,
Yesterday was your birthday. Happy belated birthday. You were born in 1984. You would be 39. You were gone on Saturday, May 17, 2003. I was 16 years old at the time. I couldn't accept your death. I should've been there. I was in denial. 20 years later. Now I'm 36. Time flies. That's crazy. It surprises me every day that my younger-self was able to survive your death. When things don't go my way, I would tell myself that in order to keep the mind in check.  Bike dropped 100 feet below somewhere I almost died on Tuesday, August 15, 2023. I went mountain biking for the first time with friends on a strenuous trail.
The mountain bike didn't fit me. I got it for free from one of my I Junk It clients. The bike was good for a tall person with small feet. My toes kept hitting the front tire every time I turned. I was focused on the bike and trail. Almost halfway from the trail, I was biking downhill. It was rocky. I panicked. My hands weren't on the handle grip. The bike and I jumped off the trail. At that moment, I thought I died. It was a blur. The bike was gone. I was able to catch the edge of the cliff. It was a pause for me. I felt that my sister pushed me to the edge of the cliff. She saved me. Dear Future Girlfriend,
You love me for me. I don’t have a typical 9-5 job. I still live with my parents. I’m not financially stable. You never cared for society talking about me.  Rest in peace.
You died at 18 years old. I'm 36 now. 18 x 2 = 36. This marks the 20th anniversary of your death as well. 20 x 2 = 40. I'm close to 40 years old. Time flies. Hey sister. I miss you. I love you. You're still here in my heart. You're a single man looking for a lady. You say that you're open and kind. You communicate. She agrees with you. You say something. You're shut down by one mistake. That's it. You're not given a second chance.
You just don't know. Nothing works for you. Only the people with relationships know. Who knows? You went on a date with a lady. Everything was great until she asked money from you. It was tough for you to swallow. You told her, "Sorry I won't be able to." Then she ghosted you. You were talking to a lady from the Philippines through FaceBook Messenger for a year. You finally went on a date with her. You enjoyed the night. Then you came back home from the Philippines to the States. A friend told you to write a letter to her. You asked for her address. You mailed the letter. Then she ghosted you. I'm halfway from reading Suleika Jaouad's memoir, Between Two Kingdoms. At 22 years old, Jaouad's life changes once she's diagnosed with cancer. So far the book talks about life, death, and identity.
As I grow older, my identity changes. A friend told me to look back at your past for every decade in your life (not every year). I'm 36 years old. That's almost 4 decades of my life. Imagine if I get to connect and hangout with 26 year old self, 16 year old self, and 6 year old self. I would really love to. That would be highly unlikely. |
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