new year, new me?

Here is a refined version that tightens the language, clarifies the narrative arc, and preserves your voice while improving flow and rhythm. I kept it reflective and grounded, with a clear beginning, middle, and resolution.

I am not usually one for New Year’s resolutions. I tend to save those for my birthday. But this year feels different. People say “new year, new me,” though for me it is less about becoming someone new and more about returning to something I once was.

Before we move forward, let’s go back for a moment.

It is 2018 or 2019, and I am deep in the DC nightlife scene. That period still lives at the forefront of my mind because I was fully active, fully visible. I was producing balls and shows, running and managing House of Sonique and its eight members, and most importantly, I was outside. I showed up in lewks. Flower crowns, heels, dresses—those were not costumes, they were the norm.

If you knew me then, or even just saw me, you thought of flowers. More specifically, roses.

Roses have always been woven through my life in significant ways. I remember roses at my father’s funeral when I was six or seven—so young that the exact age is beginning to blur. There is the rose tattoo on my arm, and the hundreds, if not thousands, of flowers I have photographed over the years. I have always carried a deep affinity for them.

This year, I want to embody the same mindset I had back then when I was going out into the world with intention and confidence. This time, however, it is different. There is so much more behind it now.

Over the past eight years, I have grown—not into a new person, but into someone who took the time to hone their skills, nurture their community, and sharpen their mindset. So while my lewks may no longer revolve around flowers alone, they will revolve around me. Around someone who enjoys shibari, sewing, and fully embracing the androgynous power that emerges when I put on my full armor of queerness.

So, new year, new me? Maybe. Maybe not.

But one thing is certain: I will be outside, and I will be looking like a snack.

Pinky promise.