The Perks of Being a Writer

Dear friend,
Do you ever feel like something came into your life at just the right time? Like if it had come at any other time it wouldn’t have had the same impact on you? It’s like the forces of the universe conspired to make the impossible feel possible. And you don’t realize how much you needed that thing to happen until it does, because when it does you wonder how you ever lived without it.
Tonight I learned something about life. While we’re in certain situations, they can seem like they will last forever and nothing will ever get better. But that’s just not true . There was a time when I wanted to give up because it didn’t seem like a damn thing in my life mattered. And it didn’t seem like anybody really cared. Eventually I realized that life could get better and that a lot of people cared. And I’ve seen a thousand movies, heard a million stories, and read about just about every painful situation,  but it wasn’t until tonight that I realized how much life can turn around.
I’ve been in a good mood for a solid month. I don’t know what changed in my life—a lot of things I guess. But I didn’t think being this happy was possible; it just happened. And tonight I was so excited to see The Perks of Being  a Wallflower. I’m absolutely in love with the book, and I knew I was going to love the movie. But I never expected it to change my life. I sat there tapping my friend throughout the movie going “I love this so much!” And by the end of the movie I had my knees to my chest and I was hugging my purse as I tried to hold back my tears. And as they fell from my eyes, I just left them there because I couldn’t let anyone see that I was actually crying.
All I kept thinking was This is the best movie I’ve ever seen. And maybe it was. But maybe it just came to me at the right time, because maybe I just needed to see it now.
I feel like I was starting to give up on being a writer, because it just didn’t seem possible.  I couldn’t figure out how I was going to make a career out of it. While we consider it an occupation, there’s no crazy plucking away at a type-writer at the college fairs. There are hospitals for doctors. There are labratories for scientists. There are schools for teachers. But where are the messy corners with scattered papers that writers work in? I feel like I don’t know where I belong.
And I don’t know where I’ll end up. And I don’t know what I’ll be. And I don’t know why bad things happen or why we can’t save other people. (If that seems random or you don’t get, it’s because you haven’t seen The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I can’t explain it, because you must watch it.)
All I know is right now, in this moment, I feel infinite.
Love always,

P.S. Even if I don’t make a career out of writing, I am, and always will be, a writer.