Dear Evan Hansen

by Val Emmich

I do stupid things when I’m nervous, which means I’m constantly doing stupid things.

I tend to watch a lot of movies. Ideally, documentaries about loners, outcasts, pioneers. Give me cult leaders, obscure historical figures, dead musicians. I want people with rare diseases and unusual talents. I want to see a misunderstood person who someone is finally taking the time to understand.

For the most part, I’ve always preferred night to day. At night, it’s okay to be hunkered down in your house. During the day, people expect you to be out and about. You can start to feel pretty guilty about wasting so much time indoors.

If the pain is in you, it’s in you. It follows you everywhere. Can’t outrun it. Can’t erase it. Can’t push it away; it only comes back. The way I’ve been thinking, after all that’s happened, maybe there’s only one way to survive it. You have to let it in. Let it hurt you. And don’t wait. It’ll reach you eventually. Might as well be now.