This is 40.
Hi, I’m Lloyd—a 40-year-old trying to figure out life like everyone else. This piece is a glimpse into a journey of self-discover and identity. Buckle up—it’s honest, messy, and unapologetically me.
I am not one thing; I am made up of many things.
I am not only glitz and glam.
I am not only a Renaissance man.
I am not only a log cabin engulfed by the forest.
I am not only busy streets and bustling nights.
I am not only working a corporate 8-to-5.
I am not only settled behind my laptop, writing my words as they flow from my mind, through fingers, to keys, to paper.
I am not only selfish or self-involved.
I am not only wanting to be good but thinking about doing good instead.
I am not only taking what I can and giving the bare minimum.
I am not only a sense of humour with a sprinkle of sarcasm.
I am not only average-built with rugged hairiness.
I am not only bearded with dark brown eyes.
I am not only smiling and sad or sad and happy.
I am not only aesthetic hands and feet, groomed to be poised.
I am not only allergic to dust.
I have more to offer. I hope.
Maybe I’ll work for 25 more years or so.
Maybe I’ll leave a legacy, as I said at 30.
I might not be around long, but here I am,
blessed and grateful.
Ungrateful that I’m still not taller than I was at 18,
when I dreamed of knee surgery to be a model.
All I wanted was to be seen, loved, and admired for my
inner beauty.
“But that’s really what this industry is all about—inner beauty.”
To sing, to act—too shy, too many anxieties.
Too many anxieties, too shy to act, to sing.
I auditioned for an Astros ad once but didn’t get it.
I might have gotten the soccer one
if I hadn’t started having funny moments of puberty
in the dressing room with boys. I was young; I didn’t understand.
“You’re different. You’re different.
Could you stay away from me? You’re different.”
Now, I know that being gay is my superpower.
So here I go—fly away, away.
Come back to Earth. You lost it now.
You’re back home again and again and again and again.
They say everything happens for a reason.
Dear God, I hope so because here I am.
And this is 40.
I am not only one thing; I am all of those things.
As I look in the mirror and realize
the person looking back is me,
I accept that I am Lloyd.
And this is 40. And it’s okay.
