Violet Young

I want to be the type of person who’s too busy to be sad and lonely, so busy the sadness evaporates.

I had a creeping fear that our world is turning into a more individualistic world and that we should all try harder to fight this shift. This fear has propelled me for quite awhile. It’s seemed noble, worthwhile. But still the doubt kept crushing me.

The problem of being me, I’m slowly starting to believe, is not a curse to be carried tiredly through life, or to be mollified by reckless pleasure-seeking (I’ve tried that). Instead it’s a challenge. A worthy challenge.

Give me another dose, I say, and move determinedly towards him. He needs encouragement, I say, once I get there and find him desperately trying to shirk the flawless shell I insist he wear in my presence.