To a Friend,

You eagerly, though I hope not desperately, confessed certain painful sentiments to me not too long ago, consequently asking for any advice I could give regarding creation and life. I tell you with assurance I am a most improper guide for such a task; what has worked for me will ultimately fail for you. However, I nevertheless divulged actions and thoughts which have carried me through similar destitute periods. I recount them here, neither for boasting nor for pride, but as a reminder for you as well as myself, because the days we have faced before will return in slightly different shades.

You feel yourself as a creator. There is beauty in looking at a painting, listening to a song, and watching other people perform on a stage, and along with this, a rapidly withering spark comes along. For a day or two the future is within your grasp. Finally, you sit down to write and compose, to release the passions which have built up inside you for the last day. Eventually the day passes and the next day brings bewilderment and shame. Everything you had done yesterday seems a disastrous mistake. This is your first lesson as creator: despair copulating with hate. Moments of inspiration are brief and rare. Creating is a continuous process. The words were perfect in the mind, but this is not good enough. There will be nothing to remember you by unless the work is written. Forget perfection; it runs, flirting with all whom it encounters and is a mere acquaintance to be discarded. Nothing is perfect, and to work successfully is to work with this constraint.

It is a wonder such authors were able to write at all. In writing just a few lines of verse, I feel as though I have traversed the footprints of Hemingway, Baldwin, Twain, Shelley, Fitzgerald, and the countless others who offer a guiding light. Needless to say, I have not. Imagine the times in which even they hated their words and characters, wishing to erase all of their efforts. Such removed individuals are distant but not immune from the pitfalls of failure and doubt. We live beside, not below them. The hate you face is no different than theirs. You suffer from different passions, but they are just as strong as the ones that came before. When doubt and hate misconstrue the written words, keep writing. It is most likely crap, but write all you need to say. Rewriting will begin later. Begin with the framework and continue from there. I do not propose a method; there are no rules, just grueling routine. I wish I could provide you with a solution, and, in a way, I have: do not sit and ponder the perfect, but simply work.

Often times, feelings of inability are coupled with lower and, too many times deemed, “unhealthy” thoughts. Such emotions as “hate” and “envy” are labelled destructive thoughts, and yet I have never found anybody who had never suffered from them. I, too, have faced numerous demons in my premature life. The first step is to accept them. Do not attempt to purge yourself of these greatest and most convincing moments of life. When the mind has been taken over by the emotions, there is a feeling of excruciating pain never felt at other times. These moments occur and pass momentarily. Bathe in these life-affirming moments for, if they arise, you are living correctly. One cannot be angry for a day, nor for an hour. There are too many distractions which ensue after the event that had caused the anger. Nothing lasts, and the future is to be anticipatory.

If there is an inert loathing, there exist different perspectives one could try to apply in life. Comedy and humor in the mundane has repeatedly aided me in dull and depressing moments. This process required the action of looking outside myself. Although a seemingly impossible task, it consists of nothing but questions and observations. When I’m angry or sad, I begin a dialectic with myself. This usually begins as an inner dialogue that quickly transforms to an artful conversation. Why am I mad? Where do I feel it? Who is responsible?

I’m usually annoyed at young kids, ages five to seven, because they merely care about their own activity. If they’re energetic, they run around, whether it be in the road, at a restaurant, or on an airplane. Upon investigating the situation, I then realize old people are exactly the same. They sit themselves down at restaurants, speak their mind, and have no regard for others around them. Wouldn’t it be great to simply kill these people? Why are old people alive anyway? They are hurdling towards death, and we have to sit and put up with them! The sooner they go, the better.

Although a dark turn, this hyperbole places situations in perspective. Once again, I realize this moment, like all others, will end. There is no need to become overly irritated. Nobody is simple, and everybody is annoying to deal with at times. Looking away from myself to examine others defines me better, and I realize the comedy in all our lives. We are each a comedy.

Never take yourself too seriously. Laugh at yourself. I find this to be particularly helpful for college students. We think we can change the world and its perspective with our new ideas and knowledge. This will not happen; accept it. The world would be the same without you or me. Life, then, is to be enjoyed. Take pleasure in music, literature, art, and even the smallest of things, such as a sunny day. Be humble and thankful for the people and opportunities surrounding you. Never attempt to be another person. Define yourself by trying everything, because you’ll never have to do it again if you don’t like it. Find your place. It is easier than it might seem.

This will not work all the time. Darkness will find the cracks, seep in, and reside for a while. But, simultaneously, the light will be looking for the same cracks. Soon, the light will break through and shine in the places where you thought it would never shine again. Life, simply put, is an essay never completed. Countless revisions, word changes, comma splices, unfinished paragraphs, grammar errors, and who knows what else. Take pleasure in the work, because in the end, you can only keep working.