From the writer's desk: If you're still reading
It’s been a while since I have written something for just me. Everything I have written has been with the knowledge that someone else would consume it under a critical lense. Odd to say that this platform meant for people to subscribe to what I have to say is the place I feel least criticized but alas, here we are.
I want to start with a confession: I am unoriginal. Almost everything I have said or written in my life is some half-assed regurgitation of all the media I have ever consumed. I write poetry that sounds like poems you have heard before, my plays are pieces of stories that aren’t truly mine and my media analysis is analysis you probably read before the world pivoted to video. I am trying to learn however why I want my voice to be heard amongst the noise.
I started this substack a month out from being 20. It felt like the first big year of my life, the first year I really knew myself. I learned 5 major things.
1- The people who love you will carry you with them even when you aren’t around (Bastardization of “My name is still alive in someone’s mouth” from The Crown Ain’t Worth Much by Hanif Adurraqib)
2- Choosing to love someone, something, anyone, anything is the most powerful tool at your disposal. (Adlib of “Love had never been a popular movement” said by James Baldwin)
3- Freedom is a constant struggle (A personal modern proverb I have taken from Angela Davis)
4- You are not alone in this world until you are. Make it mean something (An amalgamation of every time someone has told me they believe in me)
5- Do not lose yourself to the violent machine. I will miss the sound of your anger, the warmth of your joy, the power of your resilience, the beauty of your art. Sit and eat with me, share in my company. (Extrapolated from “I love you. I’m glad you exist” from The Orange by Wendy Cope)
None of the things I learned this year were brilliant revelations due to heavy introspection. I let the world around me tell me what I needed to know.
I don’t think 21 will change me forever. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. I am learning not to resent insignificance.
At least 40 other writers are capturing the significant insignificance of life better than I have today. That’s alright, I’m unoriginal and mediocre but consistent. It’s a kind of beautiful thing, the room, and space to grow despite your standards. Have a brilliantly boring evening where you do nothing and see no one. Maybe even cry, it’s quite nice to cry sometimes.
To those of you who knew me through 20, Thank you. You were brilliant. Life is beautifully mediocre, utterly terrifying, and overwhelmingly sad. I hope you see a wonderful sunset on an otherwise boring day. I hope you make the perfect grilled cheese. I hope your life is full of small victories in otherwise uneventful moments.
However, most of all, I hope you win big. Run down the street screaming and cheering and popping champagne. I hope every minute of your day is perfect. I hope there is good things out there in the world still within reach for you and I hope you grasp for them.