An angel living in the garden of evil.

Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow , for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.

You are stronger than you realise. You are crueller than you realise. The smallest words will break your heart. You will change. You’re not the same person you were three years ago. You’re not even the same person you were three minutes ago and that’s okay. Especially if you don’t like the person you were three minutes ago. People come and go. Some are cigarette breaks, others are forest fires. You won’t like your name until you hear someone say it in their sleep. You’ll forget your email password but ten years from now you’ll still remember the number of steps up to his flat. You don’t have to open the curtains if you don’t want to. Never stop yourself texting someone. If you love them at 4 a.m., tell them. If you still love them at 9.30 a.m., tell them again. Make sure you have a safe place. Whether it’s the kitchen floor or the Travel section of a bookshop, just make sure you have a safe place. You will be scared of all kinds of things, of spiders and clowns and eating alone, but your biggest fear will be that people will see you the way you see yourself. Sometimes, looking at someone will be like looking into the sun. Sometimes someone will look at you like you are the sun. Wait for it. You will learn how to sleep alone, how to avoid the cold corners but still fill a bed. Always be friends with the broken people. They know how to survive. You can love someone and hate them, all at once. You can miss them so much you ache but still ignore your phone when they call. You are good at something, whether it’s making someone laugh or remembering their birthday. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that these things don’t matter. You will always be hungry for love. Always. Even when someone is asleep next to you you’ll envy the pillow touching their cheek and the sheet hiding their skin. Loneliness is nothing to do with how many people are around you but how many of them understand you. People say I love you all the time. Even when they say, ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’ or ‘He’s an asshole.’ Make sure you’re listening. You will be okay. You will be okay.

What I hate is ignorance, smallness of imagination, the eye that sees no farther than its own lashes. All things are possible.. Who you are is limited only by who you think you are.