I guess it’s time again to write these words. Hopeful, needed words. Sparklers thrown into the darkness of the world, so someone sees them and feels a little better.
I guess it’s time again to adjust those scales with a single grain of sand more amongst all other artists doing the same.
I’m stressed in real life. Concerned and scrambling—but not unhopeful, despite that. I’ve been around the block enough times to know that, usually, it’s going to be okay. I’ve been through enough crises to think that I might just be a capable person who can come up with solutions yet again.
I’ve got some amazing people by my side. You know who you are. I like to think of you smiling as you read this. Each of you.
I don’t know why, but I’ve believed in something for a long time. A sort of karma. The “Universe Provides,” I’ll say, and I mean it with conviction.
When we do things for the right reasons. When we are good, and kind, and empathetic, and clever—and driven—the universe will sometimes, just by some unknown force, bend over backward to save you. To help you.
“God helps those who help themselves.”
I may not entirely agree with those words, but I do believe in the power of planning. Of faith. Of force of will against the world. I’ve seen a person refuse reality and then have the circumstances simply bend to his want.
Hell, I’ve been lucky so many times it’s got to mean something.
I mean the following without a hint of irony: it can be hard to “check your privilege,” to be aware of the benefits that society hands you automatically. I’m a white male, I know it’s easier for me than others by a wide margin and I try to remember that.
But I have seen some shit.
Fucking hell have I been through the wringer. Internally, externally, I’ve been smacked around before.
But I do want to say it does get better.
You may look upon the old days and realize that you don’t recognize the person who you were.
That means you’ve risen so far that your old self is just a blur.
There are hard days, yeah. Days that suck. And boy does it compound sometimes. But survive, fight.
Winning at life is, first off, to simply keep on living—and to do so in a way that makes you feel like you are, indeed, living.
I know I’m all over the place here—but, just, I want to tell everyone that we are fighting a fight here, every day, against anarchy and the bad sorts of chaos and disorder, just by refusing to fall into every pit of despair that might rear itself up to bite.
And you are impressive for it.
I guess it’s time again to say that there is hope.
Because that’s easy to forget sometimes.
Special thanks to: Melissa Potter
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