Here's a flashlight.

Hey, stranger.


I read a lot of letters from strangers that are hopeful, that offer advice, that have somewhere to go, or somewhere to be. This letter to you is not intended to be cynical in the least, it is simply intended to be. It is this way, I believe, because I am about to graduate college, and I'm a little -- okay, a lot -- unsure of what happens next. I keep telling myself I get to do whatever I want with my life, but I can't help feeling that's not the case. It's a possibility I may not get a job. I may be stuck with loans for a while. I amy not get the fellowship I applied for. There are so many things in life out of our control. The people we love don't always love us back... sometimes it seems like they just stop trying.

I have a saying. It's French, of course- it wouldn't be mine if it wasn't in French. You've probably heard it before. C'est la vie. Lately, though, I'm beginning to feel its not enough. How are we supposed to make it through-- how are we supposed to love-- being so unsure, so frail, and so hopeless? How are we supposed to make it through knowing that our best might not be good enough?

...
I didn't intend for this to be a sob story. No, it has a better ending. I recently lost a friend to suicide, and I think he felt the same way I did. I made a promise to myself though, to see what was at the end of the tunnel. It might be more tunnel... but it has to be better than death, doesn't it?

I fear I've lost myself just now. The way I intended to end this was to say: I am here. I just want you to know that. It's not advice. It's intended to be exactly what it sounds like... I need you to know. I'm here too. I'm afraid, and I'm clawing at the walls to make it to the end of the tunnel, and I don't know why or what's out there... but I'm here too, in another tunnel far away. You aren't alone.

Here's a flashlight. (Drawing of a flashlight.)