22 and Starting Over

[ Lyrics ]

22 and starting over, wheels spinning on the 101.

Rearview full of dust, past I didn’t pack,
just a suitcase, two hoodies, and dreams that won’t relax.
GPS says ‘merge,’ city lights start to climb,
Koreatown’s glow through the smudged-up window line.
I texted Mom, “I’m here,” then deleted it twice,
heart beating like percussion under borrowed advice.
My phone’s on low, but my soul’s on redial,
this city’s got a million stars—none of them feel like mine yet.

I practiced lines in the mirror, said ‘I’m brave, I’m enough,’
but the echo got quiet real fast in the rush.
Signs blur like questions—‘Will I stay? Will I fall?’
Got a studio apartment, but it’s bigger than my haul.

22 and starting over, wheels spinning on the 101,
chasing a feeling I can’t name but know I need.
Every exit sign flickers like a chance to be someone else,
but I’m holding my breath, hoping this skin fits well.

22 and starting over—but the fear’s just a cover
for the fire I swear I felt before the plane touched down.

Pulled up to the curb, engine ticking like a clock,
landlord said, ‘Welcome,’ then he left me with the lock.
Room smells like old spice and a hint of mildew,
but the window frames the skyline—suddenly it’s beautiful.
Unzipped my bag, laid my headphones on the floor,
pressed record on silence, just to feel like I’m producing more.
Said a prayer to the ceiling, ‘Let me stay, let me grow,’
not famous, not flawless—just someone people know.

I still hear my old life like a song on repeat,
but tonight, I’m the new verse, raw and incomplete.
No safety net, no script—just the hum of the street,
and the quiet belief that my rhythm will meet.

22 and starting over, wheels spinning on the 101,
chasing a feeling I can’t name but know I need.
Every exit sign flickers like a chance to be someone else,
but I’m holding my breath, hoping this skin fits well.
22 and starting over—but the fear’s just a cover
for the fire I swear I felt before the plane touched down.

This city don’t care if I make it or break,
it’ll burn bright either way. But I’m not here to fade.
I brought my voice, my pen, my midnight mind,
and a heart that still dares to get left behind.

22 and starting over, wheels spinning on the 101,
writing my worth in real-time, line after line.
Every red light’s a pause, every green light’s a go,
I’m not where I dreamed—but I’m not lost, I know.
22 and starting over—but this time, I’m the author
of the life I’ll live before the world knows my name.

…starting over.