FromEquestria2LA
Well-Known Member
I turned 38 today. Thirty-eight. That number may not carry the shiny drama of 30 or the big-four-oh milestone, but I’ll tell you what — it comes with perspective. The kind of perspective earned from living, enduring, and still being in the game. And even after all this time, one thing hasn't changed: I still carry the fire and energy of my teenage self.
There’s a strange magic in growing older. You start to understand the full weight of everything you’ve been through — the triumphs, the heartbreaks, the curveballs life hurls at you when you least expect it. I've been gaslit. I've been underestimated. I’ve dealt with invisible battles that would’ve broken me if not for one thing: the things I love.
Pop culture. Anime. Sports. Game shows. The con circuit. These aren't just hobbies. They’re lifelines. They’re threads of joy, identity, and community woven through the fabric of my life. And if you think I'm going to "grow out" of them — guess again. I'm not apologizing for still knowing every note of "Butter-Fly" from Digimon, or for holding back tears when Ohtani pulls off another moment of baseball sorcery, or for rocking a vintage CFL jersey to the grocery store. That is me. That has always been me.
I see people my age who look around and feel like they’ve lost something — like they had to trade their wonder in for a mortgage and a pile of unread emails. I get it. Adulting can crush your spirit if you let it. But that’s why clinging to your joy is so important. Not in a childish way, but in a human way. We all need something that makes our hearts beat a little faster. We all deserve to feel that “Christmas morning” magic once in a while — even if it comes from an anime premiere or an obscure piece of 1980s baseball trivia.
And through the highs and lows, one thing that’s helped me keep going — besides my fandoms — is the people. The friends who stood by me in dark times. The ones who showed up when the world felt like it was closing in. The fellow weirdos and kindred spirits who reminded me that being different is something to be celebrated, not hidden. You all know who you are. And if I haven’t said it enough: thank you. Thank you for seeing me, for listening, and for letting me be unfiltered, passionate, autistic, nostalgic me.
I’m 38 today, and my journey is far from over. I still have dreams. I still have stories to tell, conventions to attend, jerseys to collect, and memories to make. I'm not slowing down — if anything, I’m just getting better at knowing what matters. And what matters is this: Never stop loving the things you love. Because when everything else falls apart, when the world gets loud and dark, those are the things that keep your soul intact.
Here’s to 38 years of staying true. Here's to the kid inside me who never gave up. And here’s to what’s next — because I’m not done. Not by a long shot.
There’s a strange magic in growing older. You start to understand the full weight of everything you’ve been through — the triumphs, the heartbreaks, the curveballs life hurls at you when you least expect it. I've been gaslit. I've been underestimated. I’ve dealt with invisible battles that would’ve broken me if not for one thing: the things I love.
Pop culture. Anime. Sports. Game shows. The con circuit. These aren't just hobbies. They’re lifelines. They’re threads of joy, identity, and community woven through the fabric of my life. And if you think I'm going to "grow out" of them — guess again. I'm not apologizing for still knowing every note of "Butter-Fly" from Digimon, or for holding back tears when Ohtani pulls off another moment of baseball sorcery, or for rocking a vintage CFL jersey to the grocery store. That is me. That has always been me.
I see people my age who look around and feel like they’ve lost something — like they had to trade their wonder in for a mortgage and a pile of unread emails. I get it. Adulting can crush your spirit if you let it. But that’s why clinging to your joy is so important. Not in a childish way, but in a human way. We all need something that makes our hearts beat a little faster. We all deserve to feel that “Christmas morning” magic once in a while — even if it comes from an anime premiere or an obscure piece of 1980s baseball trivia.
And through the highs and lows, one thing that’s helped me keep going — besides my fandoms — is the people. The friends who stood by me in dark times. The ones who showed up when the world felt like it was closing in. The fellow weirdos and kindred spirits who reminded me that being different is something to be celebrated, not hidden. You all know who you are. And if I haven’t said it enough: thank you. Thank you for seeing me, for listening, and for letting me be unfiltered, passionate, autistic, nostalgic me.
I’m 38 today, and my journey is far from over. I still have dreams. I still have stories to tell, conventions to attend, jerseys to collect, and memories to make. I'm not slowing down — if anything, I’m just getting better at knowing what matters. And what matters is this: Never stop loving the things you love. Because when everything else falls apart, when the world gets loud and dark, those are the things that keep your soul intact.
Here’s to 38 years of staying true. Here's to the kid inside me who never gave up. And here’s to what’s next — because I’m not done. Not by a long shot.
I hope it was a nice day.
