December 25, 2018

Dear friends

I am sorry that I have to begin with a question: What is friendship?

When we have our hands tied with work, bills, money (or the lack thereof), broken hearts, abandoned creative aspirations, the daily commute, illness, or the illness of loved ones, friendship can so very quickly become pushed to the side, creating a sense of alienation where it is least expected. It is frightening how quickly all of those things can contribute to the dissolution of solidarity. 

I ask because I want to know what can be saved, or if “to save” is even the right verb to act out in this scenario. I ask not because I am afraid of losing my so-called chosen family, but exactly because friends are nothing like family. Friendship, or to speak in more general terms—camaraderie—requires a lot of work. The second that effort dissipates so does the friendship, the camaraderie. All it takes is a bridge and some fire. Let the idiom set itself alight.

We live in a despicable system that constantly strives to push us into loveless situations and interactions where the end goal is an existence so devoid of compassion and meaning that humans might as well be replaced by robots. The fact that we have to remind ourselves that we are, in fact, humans who want and need love to live is ludicrous. Our souls have been so crushed and our willpower so dilapidated that all we can do is hate. We hate those who are as destroyed as we are, and we resort to that because it is easier than hating ourselves—and yet, we still hate ourselves. No positive affirmation, gym membership, organic skincare or flight to some faraway country can ever alleviate that hatred. Why? Because nothing will ever be solved until we hate what we are supposed to hate, and that is, yes, you know exactly what it is. I don’t want to be too on the nose here.

Now, let’s think about how and how much each and every one of us has been complicit in the fragmentation of the very thing that is supposed to keep us, all of us, afloat in this endless ocean of exploitation and exhaustion. How many times have I forgotten that the enemy is not you, not my coworkers, not even the assholes that always find a way to cut in line at the convenience store? How many more times do I have to keep slapping myself across the face so I remember that it is not you, but the system and everyone who enables it that should be blamed, hated, resisted, and held accountable. 

I am sorry for letting my misdirected anger get the best of me. This is not the end.


Your friend