i guess if i could tell you anything, it would be this: hold fast. there will be a day you wake up and notice the sun. there will be a day you don’t cry. there will be a day that starts and ends with you feeling half-built — but built, at least. not crumbling, not fractured.
things will still be strange. her phantoms will surround you. and you’ll still get all those little shocks; those little reminders that it’s just you now. you’ll never feel like you understand. you’ll never KNOW. but you won’t have to. you won’t need anything, anymore.
and i can tell you this: spit out everything inside you. let it go. keep spitting and shouting and raging until you feel something shift. there will be a moment of change. a moment of acceptance. when you’ve said everything you want to say, and when you’ve heard every answer, there will be a point. maybe you’ll hear what you needed to hear. maybe you’ll hear its absence. but there will be a point when you step out of that melancholic limbo and you lift your head.
that lone wolf in you will wake up. you will take your own hand. everything will be okay.
i hope that you will have the chance for gratitude. i hope that you will be able to look back and say ‘yea gods, what a gift you have given me’. it helps, very much. because even if the last day was a horrible mistake, even if you wasted one week too many, even if some cosmic prank was had at your expense, recognising that this beautiful thing was yours for so long… it can mend a lot of tears.
there were no answers for me. but to have had it, ever? and for so long? to have known those things for so many years? that’s everything you could wish for. maybe some people don’t get that. maybe they don’t get 2000 days of knowing, without one doubt, that some good, kind person sees them and loves them very much.
yea, gods. what a gift you have given me.
and there are still beautiful things.
they can fill some part of you with their beauty. like. there is a function in this world whose rate of change is equal to its own output at every point. i can’t tell you how that made me feel when i first thought it through. it’s nuclear. this is a tiny, little fact! it just presents itself! it is available to us at no cost, and how divine? how wonderful? it is transplanetary. it is solar.
and triangles. the euclidean constraint. built by ratios. bound every day in the same way. crazy. if you can’t prove something with a triangle, you’re full of shit. and circles. my god. x^2+y^2. really? REALLY.
there are still beautiful things. and i am pleased they are beautiful. i am pleased there is black magic and dark days and hard choices and soft landings. i am pleased i had what i had. i am pleased i am pleased i am pleased.
and if i could tell you anything, whoever you are, it would be that you will be pleased too. shit, maybe you won’t be happy. but one day, you’ll see something beautiful. you will sit up. you will stop sobbing. your chest will ache less. your throat will open. you will be able to hear people talk again. you will feel like the world welcomes you. you will hold your own hand. you will be okay.
it’s not infallible. you’ll snap in and out of it. but the point is, you’ll snap out. no matter who you lost, or what you lost, or how. no matter what. you’ll snap out. that’s what i’d tell you.
oh. and get enough sleep. don’t drink too much. go to the beach. hug your friend because he always makes time for you. kiss your dog’s little nose. take baths. do whatever the fuck you want, often. find that dusty you.
i’d tell you that too.