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aswrittenbyisa · 2 years ago

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jan. 20, 2023: long story short...

Hi and welcome,

I haven't really sent many letters before, even though I've always loved the idea, and so I'm still trying to figure things out. Should I really do this? What should I even talk about? Why would anyone care? I don't think it really matters. I've never been much of a constant person, something I'm not proud to say in any way, and I got used to having phases being the one thing that never changed. I've had phases of hobbies, of favorite actresses, favorite music to listen to, phases of fashion choices and of inner disturbances. But writing is the one thing that's always been there, it's the only constant. Most of you even reading this know me because at some point I decided to write something, and otherwise we might have never met! Others know me not because of what I write, but you know me and I write, and it's one of those things where the two walk together, it is what it is.

Point of it is, writing is definitely one of the things that got me through the last year, and it's been mostly me writing in my room, be it like a poorly planned voiceover in my journal or a perfectly dramatic (and let's be real, camp) collection of characters that live in my head and dig around my thoughts, my feelings and memories and pick which ones they will dissect that day. Sadly, it's just so much easier for me to share through these fictional reveries than to actively talk to so many of you, and so I decided to share something personal with people that make my days better one way or another. Thanks for being here!

I mostly wanted to write this down, put it out on the world, let it be known: this last year was shit. I'm not a believer of good and bad years, by the way - I think it's bullshit. But I've truly never felt worse, and it's not something I think I could have changed. I guess I just had to feel these things. I had to look back and think of all that there was, and isn't here anymore... I thought it was nostalgia at first, and then realized it was something else. I was lonely, suffocatingly so, and when I realized, everything I did all year long was just this silly, giant attempt at keeping the things and the people that I miss close to me. I don't think this is something that will ever go away; it's kind of a part of me, the pain of grief, of not really knowing where to put all the love and the hopes I had of getting to know the people I already lost. I'll never see them again, they'll never know me for anyone other than who I was when they last saw me. And so this year was just this huge patchwork of unexpressed love; I found my grandma's old crochet needles, I made something out of it. It was nothing, now I can wear it outside. So many of the movies my uncle called me to talk about, we never really got to talk about. I saw some of them this year, who am I gonna talk to now that I did? Doesn't matter, I watched them now, I'll just keep that to myself. Also, my fucking dad, right? Where does he even fit in this? I was kind of robbed of all the anger I felt for him, I was robbed of the resentment of never having him around, because now he's gone. Who am I going to be angry with? This dead guy? Come on, I know me better than that. He just doesn't matter, he wasn't around... but he gave me a sister, and I'll forever be her big sister now. And that one day when dad came over, he had The Winner Takes it All playing on the car stereo, he knew I like ABBA. I'll never be angry to his face again, we'll never sing ABBA together in his car. I wrote him a letter before he passed but he never got to read it, and now this letter is all around me everywhere. I was just my past mes dancing in my bones and recoiling inside like, you're never getting rid of us. That's fine too. If I made it through this year, I should be fine.

Here's my 2023 manifestation board: I will be happy, I will be at peace, I will continue to make things with my hands that will prove to me that I'm still here, I'll watch even more movies, I'll cook for myself and my loved ones, I'll be gentle, I'll get a new job. I'll learn so many new things. Maybe I'll get bangs. Maybe I'll get a tattoo, even though I have no idea what I would even get. I'll definitely take better care of my health. I'll be at peace...

I'm really looking forward to changing things around in my life, and I really miss studying. I always think about that quote by Sylvia Plath where she talks about seeing her life as all these branches on a tree, and all possible choices lead to this beautiful fruit hanging from each branch, but she never picks one of those fruits to eat because choosing one means losing all others, and so all fruits rot and fall in front of her before she can make a choice... That's it, right? There's not a deadline to when I must make a decision and pick one fruit, one life road instead of all others... but standing still means seeing all options rot and fall. I'd love to move to a mountain's foot, write for a living, have an unholy amount of animals to care for; I'd love to become the next biggest name on fashion journalism, maybe take the chair of Anna Wintour in a few years; I'd love to write screenplays and make movies; I'd love to travel the world and write a recipes book of all the things I discover; I'd love to work at a flower shop, learn all about flowers; I'd looooove to study history and art and work at a library, or museum, study millennia-old things for a living. I'd love to be able to pick an option soon. Maybe by the end of the year I'll have made up my mind...

I hope the last year's been easier on you than it was on me, and have the best wishes in mind for the year to come. I don't think it's been any less than messy for all of us, with grief and heartbreak and fear all over, but the good news are here: Long story short... we survived.

Thanks for stopping by! Mwah! Isa

#jan 20 2023.

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