Sunday, March 30, 2014

An Open Letter to Myself

I’ll spare you the archetypal intro spiel regarding how difficult life in your 20's is. It goes along the lines of how it’s a time of anxiety, uncertainty, growth, and astrological compatibility; your professional life is still buffering and at the end of the day you just want to make the people you care about proud. So, that’s as in depth as I’ll go. In case you didn’t know, Buzzfeed already explained it all in seven simple GIFs, and makes the conclusion that if we look at a picture of this precious cat and take a nap everything will be fine. That’s great, I’ll make sure to forward that to Ukraine.

There is no conclusion to this piece, no unorthodox approach to achieving clarity during this apex of emotional ambiguity you’re in at this stage in your life, and certainly offers no answers or explanation to the mental palindrome that has become everyday: feeling the same way you wake up as you did going to bed. You could reverse your day and it would be exactly the same progression of emotion; the only thing that would be different is the sun’s direction through the sky. Anything that breaks the monotony is appreciated, but never fully cherished by virtue of its ephemeral nature.

So here it is: uncertainty is the necessary evil coursing through your veins that forces you to fan the flames of a successful future.  Your emotional ineptitude debilitates you, and your heart only beats if it ignites happiness in those you love so much--but for Christ’s sake, put yourself first sometimes. You can feel the lover who was your best friend slipping away slowly, and it breaks you down because your worst fear is coming true. You’re losing someone you thought would never leave, and life without them cripples you with sadness and questioning. Realize that you can’t change people. Your sensitivity is overwhelmingly accentuated because that’s just how you are, and don’t hate yourself for it. It may seem more of a curse than a blessing, but learning to utilize this coveted quality can propel you and your craft into unexplored vistas.

You can reblog a photo on Tumblr with a modestly-lit wall that says “Make it go away” in Helvetica font all you want but doing so won’t, in fact, make it go away. No, don’t ask your psychiatrist how many Lana Del Rey songs you have to listen to in order to qualify for a prescription. And stop that. Stop that right there. Stop trying so hard to cover the pain with humor and a robotic persona.  Let it show a little. Let it bleed a little. Maybe if you let it out you’ll feel a little lighter.

I’m not asking you to believe in miracles, I’m asking you to believe in magic. It’s everywhere your look. The real beauty isn’t the intensely hued Empire State Building. It’s that filthy puddle with cigarette butts afloat and that moment of clarity you have sitting outside your shitty duplex realizing how much you love someone and the neon reflection in that puddle that sparked said thought. No matter how many times reality bites you, or how many times the truth stings and hardens you: believe in the unsaid, believe in colors that haven’t been discovered, and believe in the fantasy because that’s where life’s diamonds lie. Perhaps a healthy dose of delusion is just what we need to get by.  

No comments:

Post a Comment