this is not the letter i’d planned it to be, but what ever is? this has not been the year i envisioned, but that would’ve been boring beyond belief. if i’d been given the reigns to this divine comedy(tragedy? both?), i’d have long been begging for a channel switch. my moods are ever shifting, my convictions woefully pliant. i attest that my only constant is inconsistency, so take it with a grain of salt when i tell you that today, i am happy.
i was speaking with one of my nearest and dearest recently, one more than one occasion, about how full the year has been. he and i have only known each other since last summer, yet we have changed so much in the meantime. us then would hardly recognise us now, we’d appear as strangers, our lives would seem absurd to our younger, less lived counterparts.
i began this year with a suicide attempt, an extended aftershock of a previous one that occurred nine months prior. at the beginning of 2022, i was convinced that i did not want any part of what was to come. though sometimes i still feel that way, the duration of despair is shrinking as i grow. i feel as though i’ve been gesturing to the waking world for years, using it as explanation for my somewhat constant unease. how could one be happy as the world burns? when i forget to be cautious, joy becomes a luxury i can’t afford rather than an innate necessity.
among other trends, it is become increasingly common among my peers to be anti-reproduction. how could one want to bring children into a world like this? there is so much pain, so many horrors. but there are other things, too. i think of our ancestors who made love during wars, famine, atomic bombings. the world has always been a scary place. still, we found ways to continue.
i say that to my previous selves, too: we will continue. sometimes it will be skipping, others it will be kicking and screaming. i did not want to live through this year, and still i’m so, so grateful that i did. today, i hope for many years on my horizon, i hope to grow old and wrinkly and wise. i hope to guard my joy like the only resource that’s of any value, because it is. if i’ve learned anything this year, it’s the importance of being silly. all of my sorrow has stemmed from playfulness’ deficit. when all is said and done, we will miss our pain. hell isn’t fire, it’s sterility. i am grateful to not be numb. this year has brought me unspeakable hurts, unnameable joys, and an absurd amount of boredom. all of it was a blessing, a gift.
the cool thing about surviving a thing, is that you never believe that you can, until you do. my new year’s resolution (though i never make them) is to appreciate all that i can, not only from the rear view mirror, but as it presents itself, as i shake, as i cry, as i sing, as i writhe. today, i want to be here. tomorrow, who knows? i’ll keep showing up, no matter the weather. i hope you will, too.
cheers to all that’s passed, and all that’s yet to come :-)
i love you dearly,
j
"...the importance of being silly..."
A very salient truth.