This is hard one to respond to, so rather then respond issue by issue, I’d like to just talk if that’s okay.
I think you’re really right about something I know you wish you weren’t right about. People do just want lies. Most people can’t even see reality, let alone process and accept it. Some people can see it, and it haunts them and tortures them and they’re never alright- they’re always worrying, always afraid of the next choice, always paralyzed by their own understanding of the universe as it spirals around them.
Then, there are people like you. People who can see reality and who accept it. These people are sometimes bitter and crisp, like burned chocolate chip cookies. I think it’s rare, but some people manage to bake in reality just long enough to be people worth taking a slow bite of, and savoring the things you’ll glean from just a taste.
I’ve always thought you were the latter. I know you say you live in your thoughts- but you don’t really. You write. And in writing those thoughts they become something else, they take on a new dimension and are alive on the screen or the page. You make inkblots, and those are indelible marks on reality. We only have to breathe on a cold window to see that just being alive changes the world- even just for a millisecond.
I am firm believer in the idea that the world is exactly as much for us as we are willing to eke out of it. We take whatever fate has tossed us and we make what we can of it- we do our best, or sometimes we don’t. And either way what we had the end of it all is exactly what we were willing to put into it. It turns out that age old adage is actually the equation which runs our lives, the secret mathematics to life. It’s just that it doesn’t start out balanced. We have what we have. It’s never a fair fight.
And so insofar as what you’ve written to me, I can only tell you two things. First, and most important, I am not you, I cannot see through your eyes or feel the way your blood metalizes in your veins when something is wrong. I only know my life and existence from my corner of it, I know how it feels to slide beneath my eyes, vitreous fluids buoying ideas to my lips.
Secondly, I can tell you those thoughts in regards to your situation, to your life.
If what we make of what we have is all that we can ever have, I think you’d better get to making. I know that you’re young and that years spiral out in front of you like translucent question marks. You have all the time in world. I love that saying. It’s not just about the fact the you have time, it’s about you owning your world. All the time in it is yours. No one else will ever experience your world. The time you have here is yours and yours alone.
D, you’ve got a choice now. You’ve got a choice everyday. You can live with what you’ve got. You can subsist on it. Or you can insist on scratching out something better for yourself from the dust you’ve been given.
You’re not a pariah. You’re far from it. Your letter inspired me to write this way, you’re an excellent writer. You’re funny, and witty and bright. Give people a chance to see that, and they’ll fall head-over-heels-over-head every time.
When you’re ready you’ll strike out on your own. And I think you’ll surprise yourself.
-L
