it takes less effort to destroy than it does to build

Alternatively titled: The Grass is Greener Where You Water It.

Dear whomever,

I have recently taken one of my annual social media breaks for a new reason which is really just a lack of creativity. It’s not burn-out, it’s not depression, it’s just boredom. It is my hands not knowing what the next word should be, and being frustrated with that. Frustration always = Time for a blank slate! for me. But blank slates have never done much for me other than heighten shameful feelings.

God I hate always being pulled to create something. I hate that I want to keep writing letters to you, I hate all the drafts I have that are almost-ready. I hate that I listen to songs and imagine intense, movie-like music videos. That I see a word and think of a poem. It’s all so tiring.

But God I love the very brief moment after creating when it’s all amazing. I often fantasize about how lovely it would be to have a book that is mine that I cannot edit. I imagine it would feel like both relief - “I created something worthwhile” - and freedom - “I never have to work on this again.”

Listen - it is easier to delete the Instagram app than to post a half-ass poem, honestly, but I tell myself what I’m doing is the harder thing, that taking a break from social media is oh-so-difficult.

That’s the funny thing about destruction - we like to convince ourselves it’s the harder option, but really it’s just the easiest way out.

Running is easy, friend.

But what if you just remained still?

---

In my 20s, I’ve learned that one of the few certainties is that almost everyone is suffering, in some way or another. Like, to someone $50 dollars is incredibly little money. To someone else, $50 is a month’s worth of money. And when someone says - I’m down to my last $50 and I’m panicking, one who grew up with very little money could easily chime in with What the fuck are you complaining about?

The biggest, most vital lesson one learns is to pause, rationalize, and think about why your first thought is as it is. That process will lead you to your next thought: which is a more accurate culmination of your learnings, beliefs, and self: which means it is your thought - not your mom’s or your dad’s or your aunts, or even your preschool teachers’. It is yours.

I’ve been pausing a lot, lately. Trying to. The WuWei teachings are certainly getting to me; when I find myself overwhelmed, I close my eyes and image the world is just water flowing past me, but I am cemented where I am, strong, like a rock.

I’ve learned that instincts don’t always mean correctness. Instincts are good within rationale. Like, instinctually, one may think Relationships are hard - but who gives us our instincts? Our parents, most likely, DNA and genes and a culmination of those things, and those thoughts are theirs - not ours.

It becomes a rebellious act, then, to think “relationships are hard” then decide “actually - I’m going to work on making them easy.”

Being rebellious is something I like to be - even if my rebellion is only against myself, through a small, simple thing, like writing this letter.

My instinct right now is to tear apart all my things, delete all the poems, and start fresh, because my instinctual, life-long belief is that a blank page will help me think and want to create something amazing and beautiful and new and once I create that perfect new thing I will be relieved and happy and I will never stop it will be like a snowball making its way down a hill and blah, blah, blah.

I am every self I’ve ever been is the thing - and my other selves have created great things. What we make now is only an amalgamation of everything else we’ve ever done. Why erase? It’s all worthwhile, in the end.

So - yeah.

This is where it ends, today.

It’ll come to me.

Until next time,

Amal