An Open Letter

In 7th grade my girlfriend told me that she was sexually assaulted by her close friend. I remember listening to her, and trying to comfort her. I did everything I could to make her more comfortable.

I used to also think of myself as an emotional punching bag, where I planned to just help as many people as I could and eventually just kill myself so the emotional burden goes with me. Obviously that was wrong, and parts of that have changed – but other parts haven't.

I find everything that hurts me is a byproduct of love. And I think that's an amazing thing. I'm glad I'm someone who loves freely. I think about that woman's last words “God, it was so fun. It was just so much fun.” One day this will all be over. And not just in death. One day in the future my lungs may not work the same, or I may be injured. And I won't be able to scream in the car like I do now. I don't want to miss it, I don't even necessarily want to enjoy it more. I just want to be glad I had all these experiences.

I think being unnecessarily nice is the key to life in a way. I'm almost crying thinking about the most mundane acts of strangers kindness. I will never forget the random man online who got some taxes back, and offered to buy me fraise on transformice. I never had met him before. I did nothing to deserve it. I'm crying in my car writing this right now. He expected really nothing. I don't think he had a good job, or a conventionally good life. But I think of that nameless person as a hero for me. I sat there staring at my screen as a kid thinking about how that was the only person who gave me a gift like that. That was unconditional love. He didn't even ask to friend me, he did it and was ready to leave. That's just love. I don't know if I can ever explain how much that person changed me. Something about a complete stranger doing something completely selfless. It's just love. It's love. It's love. It's all love. That $10 somehow made me feel like for every night I had sat alone crying, that there were people all around me who cared. I just never had met them. I don't think I've ever been alone since that moment, because I subconsciously knew people care no matter what.

I don't think anything could hurt without love being there first. Even in a vacuum, that pain is a beautiful thing. Seeing and remembering all of that pain isolated, and still being willing to do it again. That's a beauty more than the cosmos to me.