The World Spins Madly - A Lesson in the Meaning of Empathy and Pain as a Writer

It's been a whirlwind of a year. I graduated from UC Santa Barbara in March, and just received my diploma in the mail yesterday!

In the last six months I have experienced some terrible personal losses that sent my life spinning. This is terribly unusual for someone who has been working since age 13 and always, always had a concrete Life Plan ahead of me. Due to many strange circumstances beyond my control, I am perhaps experiencing true Young Adult Life for the first time. It's terrifying. It's fun.

Most importantly, it's a time in my life that will shape the writer I become. It's important to remember that whether or not you believe in God, fate, or sweet serendipity, this life is going to pick you up and drag you somewhere you never expected. You might not enjoy the ride, but you might be surprised to find how resilient you can be. I have experienced great pain and love and joy and horror since December, and I can honestly say that I will become a better writer for it. The ability to deeply experience these strange and very human emotions is what makes me a good artist - or at least a very passionate one!

I think it is because of my dedication to being a writer that I am able to see purpose and meaning in the good and bad in my life right now. I will continue to experience the extremes life brings me because I believe that feeling my emotions honestly, no matter how painful, allows me to better empathize with others. And what is a writer without empathy?

I promise to you, dear reader and friend, that the pain I experience is worth it because it will bring me closer to understanding you. And I want to understand everything I can about you because sometimes you are also broken or hopeful or brave or scared and you are always, always beautiful and loved.

Why I Write

Are you still alive? Are you sure? Sit back and shut your eyes. You’re breathing, aren’t you? But are you still alive?

Some stories thread your life together. I hope you have a few. I do. Because these are the things that separate us—the dead and the living. The feelings. The stories. The memories of touch, taste, smell. A man I met only once, but remember every day.

Some memories are bound to stick. Moments seep in, tell you to change, and for once in your life you listen —really listen. You aren't waiting for your turn to speak.

Tattoo these on your body and soul. Someone will ask. Someone will listen.

Other memories seem fleeting at the time.

The first time you touched his hand. Eating croissants in your mother’s bed when you were sick. Driving your first car to a football game in the snow. The smell of grandmother’s black coffee spilled on the carpet.

Things that make you inexplicably sad and happy and beautiful all at once.

Remember these things most of all. If you remember them, you can create them again.

Why do we put ourselves through this? Remembering things that hurt—the last time you ever kissed, your favorite band’s break-up, where you stood when you answered the phone call that sent your world numb?

But I ask again, remember these most of all. If you remember them, you can create them again. And if you create them, you will feel again.

You will be alive—sad and happy and beautiful all at once.

If you are too afraid, too tired, too defeated to accept living, know this. If you remember, you can create.

If you create, you can bring others to life with you.

This is why we are artists. This is why we are alive.