Dear Sugar,
I read your column religiously. I’m twenty-two. From what I can tell by your writing, you’re in your early forties. My question is short and sweet: what would you tell your twenty-something self if you could talk to her now?
Love,
Seeking Wisdom
Dear Seeking Wisdom,
Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.
In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.
You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.
When that really sweet but fucked up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do ecstasy with them, say no.
There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.
One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.
Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.
You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.
Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.
When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.
The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.
One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.
Say thank you.
Yours,
Sugar
202 responses
Oh jesus, I love you so much. And not in a naked, devour-y way, I swear.
new favorite post ever.
Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. This made me cry. And is exactly what I needed. I’m twenty and at once worried and hopeful for everything that comes after. But it’s good to hear that even the seemingly meaningless things now do mean something still.
My boyfriend and I always say we’re not going to read Sugar when it’s first posted b/c we’ll cry at our desks at work.
We always do, though. And we always do.
The useless days will add up to something. That’s a great thing to believe.
Sitting here in tears…this is just what I needed to hear today–even if I am in my thirties. Thank you, Sugar.
“Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.”
Thank you for saving me this morning.
“Your book has a birthday.” Amen.
Oh Sugar. You did it again. You made me cry tears of sorrow and joy at the same time. Thank you.
Sugar, I love you. As a forty-something, I know what you sing is true.
What Shanna said.
Holy Shit. Thanks so much.
Oh, how I love this post!
Just beautiful.
Love love love!
Thank you.
Fucking awesome!!!
Thank you.
Kim
Thank you.
You make me believe.
You are perfection.
Love me some Sugar!
I may be one of those people you describe here: “Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.” While I like to remember that younger, hip self sometimes, having a young son in my life does exactly what you describe here: “She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.” Having a kid in your life, whether your own or not, is a constant and wonderful reminder of what true happiness over the little things looks like. (and in my case it is truly balloons – my little guy loves them!)
Adopt me.
Also, my children will read this.
Thanks Sugar. xoxo
This is fucking fantastic. You are awesome.
It is very gratifying that someone exactly my age is so wise and empathetic and eloquent. Thank you! Gives me hope.
Sugar, you made me cry! I’m in my 50’s now, and though some of our situations were a bit different I TOTALLY agree! This is such a gentle, loving rebuke to the youngster you were. I hope another youngster hears what you are saying.
Sugar: I read this post, gasped aloud at the end, and burst into tears. You are beautiful. I wish I knew you, though the way you write makes it feel like I already do.
Holy shit, Sugar. You’re awesome.
“Be brave enough to break your own heart.” — My favorite line of this whole thing. So true.
I’m tempted to print this column out twice and save it for the next 12-15 years to hand to my kids when they graduate high school.
I really needed to read something like this right now.
Thanks.
Oh, you are just so awesome.
“When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything†because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.”
“One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you.”
Sugar, it isn’t a requirement to have been an addict and then worked your way through the more dreadful snares. I don’t like the word “recovered” or “recovery”, etc. I’ll never recover from what I did. But before my addiction I was profoundly lacking in warmth, compassion, acceptance of myself and others. I’m sweeter now. I let people be. Compassion only exists on the ground of perfect equality. I have a much better opinion of myself. You, Sugar, have many qualities that tell me you’ve been through the initiation of that dark experience. You never project a feeling that you’re superior, that you know something that others don’t. You project warmth, love and compassion. I hope I get to read your books. You are the archetypal truck stop waitress who knows how to listen and give wise counsel, while smacking her chewing gum.
Heartbreaking last paragraph, beauty and brilliance throughout. Thank you.
what you write is so consistently beautiful and true. this week your column hit the mark directly… as a songwriter in my thirties i still struggle with the questions and answers everyday. i think it’s part of how i write songs, but i resist the process – wanting an easy revelation or connection. i often forget “the useless days will add up to something” – but they do. they always do. and i will try to remember that when i’m struggling. thank you sugar. i look forward to thursdays. xo
“Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life.” I’m in my late 40s, no truer words have ever been spoken about “careers.” If you’re young, heed Sugar’s advice, it’s as authentic as it gets.
jeeeezus. i just turned 40 and i needed this shit. thank you. i’m just saying thank you.
“You’re wrong. You do.” just sitting here trying to absorb it.
Going to see my mother this week. Going to be a gentler daughter.
This is just all so good, Sugar. Thank you.
Oh my god. There is so much I want to take away from this but what I am going to repeat to myself over and over in my head today will be Say Thank you.
Damn, Sugar. I don’t know what to say after that. Everything sounds cliché and trite. Like “Amen, sister” or “God Bless You” or “Right on”. I guess what I’m saying is thank you. It fills a bit of my heart back up with love to hear you speak about these things, to relate, and today (well, everyday really) finding this feeling is a gift. You are gift. One I’m excited each week to get. Thank you for sharing, for baring your soul, and for telling it how it is.
Another Sugar column to call my favorite. 🙂
Ohhhh my God. Wow. I am printing this out and sharing it with my 18 year old daughter. I know that I feel like I am about that age most days and still need all this advice all the time. How wonderful that we all get to read your words. Thank you, namaste.
Having not said. Having said the wrong thing. Being here where the unsaid can only be uttered into the silence and the reality of no return, I know what you say is true.
Sugar, this is unbelievable. Just…abso-fucking-lutely unbelievably true and good and heartrending all at the same time. Reading your writing makes me want to be a better person and a better writer. Thank you so much for sharing your life and your talent with us.
Love! Admire! Cherish every word you write. You write what’s in my soul. Thank you 🙂
Spot on, as always.
Thank you, and again.
This just made me SOB. At work. I am 29 and oh how I needed to hear this. All of it. Well, maybe not the part about heroin, but all the rest of it. Thank you.
Sweet Sugar, I hope that crafting the lovely words you offer up as balm to others’ suffering brings some easing of your own as well. You so gently steer me (and, clearly, based on all these comments, not just me) to a place where I can perhaps see a way to give a different meaning to those things I have done of which I am ashamed. Saying just “thank you” seems rather small in return . . . but, as you note, that doesn’t make it any less true or important. And, of course, I love you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sugar.
“Acceptance is a small, quiet room.”
Everything feels calm and quiet when I hold this line in my head, my heart, and my body. Thank you.
Just emailed my mother.
Oh God how I love what I have just read. My bedtime story tonight. Sweet tears . Thank-you Sugar xo
Whoa, that last paragraph shot me through the heart. The last time I saw my mother conscious I made a sharp comment to her that I could tell hurt her. As she was dying a couple of weeks later, I had a chance to tell her I was sorry but she wasn’t able to answer me, and I don’t know if she even heard. If you love your mothers but are sometimes critical, sharp or impatient with them, stop it now, because it *will* haunt you harder than anything you might have imagined once they’re gone.
thank you. for this & all the rest. dear sugar is such sustenance.
Dear Sugar,
Anything I could say is inadequate. Even “thank you.”
But there it is.
<3
Easily the most beautiful thing I’ve read all year.
oh, shit.
exactly.
I keep coming back to read this. I love it, and I love you.
“Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.” Snickers of recognition …
“Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.” Guffaw of recognition, looking back at my smug self from age 52 …
“You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.” Gasp of recognition. Oh my.
This post turned my buzz of a night into a pleasant hum.
Beautiful. Thank you.
“You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love…”
Thank you so much for that. I have been beating myself up for three years for breaking up with my ex partner and you’ve helped me finally find the permission I need to give myself to move on. xoxo
I’ve been all day fretting about the “fact” I’m about to be fired because corporate education is a fucked up business and I’m caught in the middle of it. I’ll be honest, I’m not a “religious” reader, but I do thank god I read you today. Most days I have a soul; today I lost track of it. This restores it. Peace to the beautiful spirit of your knife-edged honesty-you cut me open, and I needed that.
Crying….my husband keeps telling me to stop, he hates to see me cry. I always cry when I read you, but I told him it’s a happy/ sad cry. I love what you told your twenty year old self. I want to talk to my twenty year old self, tell her she was worth so much more than she thought she was. Thank you for speaking in a way most of us can’t find the words for. thanks for speaking our truth.
Sigh. That was so beautiful. Thank you.
Dammit, Sugar.
Beautiful, Sugar. Thanks so much for this moment.
Thank you for reminding me that my shitty day job is not the only thing I’ll ever be. Your column is the first thing I go to when I’m having that “God I’m a lazy piece of unoriginal shit and don’t deserve love or happiness.” I always feel uplifted, but not in a fake “go girl! join salsa classes” way. In a real way. I love you Sugar!
Beautiful, beautiful.
I’m seventy years old. You are right. Oh, and also amazing.
I just turned 22, the age of Seeking Wisdom. Sugar is the reason I get up in the mornings sometimes in this twisty time in my life. Thank you for the infinite well of empathy.
I knew I should not have read this while at work. Despite the tears, I am glad I did. I am going to face this day knowing that the useless tasks will amount to something.
Also: “you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.”–that part, so relevant to me. My heart clenches for 20 year old me, thinking that exact thought.
Thanks for all you do, Sugar. Really.
Blew me away. Crying. Thank you.
Your columns are always so beautiful and heart wrenching, even more so this week. I wish I could give you two purple balloons.
This piece is amazing. Rouses some real emotions.
As a woman, now in her early 30’s, I easily relate to how big and important we think we are when we’re in our early 20’s. In retrospect, hopefully most of us realize we didn’t know shit about anything.
In our 20’s, we learn the biggest life lessons of all. Even though we’re high, mighty, hot and bubbling with youth, I wouldn’t trade in those years for what I have now for all the money in the world. The early 20’s are an unidentifiable nightmare, but we need to live it to put ourselves to work. We’re there to make due and at the same time, pull our heads out of our rear ends.
Sugar,
Thanks.
Wow. Bawling at my desk. Thank you for sharing that. What a great question.
Thank you so much. I think my 30 year old self needed this too.
Best Valentine’s Day gift. Ever. From a total stranger.
Evidence, to me, that we are all truly connected. Perhaps with a sugary tether, like the thin string tied to the end of a balloon. Or maybe we are linked, one to the other, by every Thank You we’ve spoken or swallowed.
And have you ever noticed how similar Thank Yous are to I Love Yous? So common and yet so complicated – with such a capacity to linger, to haunt, and to heal – their tendency to stay on the side of silence and shuttered, unwilling or unable to cross the bridge to shared, to spoken.
Muchas gracias, Sugar, for the gift of your words ~
“It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.”
This.
Thank you, Sugar.
Wow… such a great post, and if I were so cool, I would have written some of it. Esp. the part about wanting to break up. God I’d go back and tell myself that one…
“Be brave enough to break your own heart.”
Sweetest Sugar ever. Thank you thank you thankyou.
This is beautiful. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you so much.
P.S. Will Franken is an amazing comedian — more performer than stand-up. Amazing character agility and smart humor. He sounded a bit uncomfortable one-to-one onstage, but his shows are truly entertaining.
Oops. That makes no sense. I thought I was in another window. Ha ha ha! I am a mistrke expert!
Moderator, please delete this and the other comment — or leave them, as you wish.
Silly me.
I will read this every day until I exit these unstable and making-me-crazy years.
FeistyWoman said:
In our 20′s, we learn the biggest life lessons of all. Even though we’re high, mighty, hot and bubbling with youth, I wouldn’t trade in those years for what I have now for all the money in the world. The early 20′s are an unidentifiable nightmare, but we need to live it to put ourselves to work. We’re there to make due and at the same time, pull our heads out of our rear ends.
I say:
As a 23-year-old struggling to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I thank you for these words.
Wow. I am in my 30’s and can still do with much of this.
you slay me.
i so needed to hear this today. your words are a salve for my aching, lonely, quietly weeping soul. thank you.
There’s not even something wrong with being more than a little bit fat, there’s nothing wrong with being really, really fat, for the record. Your body and the way other people treat it is not a measure of your character. That’s the advice I would offer.
Oh Sugar! It’s been 24 hours since I read your column and sobbed. I can’t stop thinking about it. And now I’m getting emotional again just reading the comments. You are a goddess, an angel, a brilliant, beautiful soul. I am so grateful for you and the work you do. Thank you!
Tears. Recognition. Joy. Sadness. Pain. Fear. Hope. Yep.
God you are so spot on life Sugar…Thanks for the reminder “Useless days will add up to something” classic!!! God bless you Sugar…e*
“There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round.”
Love that! Once again, you make me feel like a better person than I think I am.
Beautiful post, but I especially love, “The useless days will add up to something.” It’s true. You get there somehow. The “something” that adds up can be a little unpredictable though…
Dear Sugar,
You’re column is almost too perfect sometimes. It’s painful.
– a good hurt.
Thank you.
Wow…I am sitting here with my mouth agape and chills all over my body. Amazing! It would be very selfish of me not to share this…thank you!
Thanks again for your beautiful words, Sugar. And don’t regret what you said or did not say. Mothers know, for they were once in their early 20’s, too.
I’ve never read a “Sugar” column in my life. I don’t know who this person is nor what she does (I’m assuming she’s a she) does. But I am a forty-five year-old man and I would amend some of her suggestions. We’ll see if this comment passes muster or gets flushed because it dares to assault the deity with a contrary opinion. Here goes.
First, yes, you should care if you’re fat. Definitely. Not because someone else gets to impose their template for you onto you, but because you want to be the ideal, ridiculously awesome, lean and laser-like you in complete defiance and contempt against entropy. Being fat is like being poorly read, or humorless, or impolite. Tune up your mind, your body. Too many people have this “accept me for who I am” thing which is okay, but only goes so far. I mean if you’re cool with being flabby and weak, having the body and stamina of a sixty year-old at age twenty, that’s fine. But don’t expect those of us who do bust our asses to remain strong and toned to put blinders on and pretend that your doughy under-gunt is not unpleasant. Ladies, I sweat for my beauty. If you want to run your fingers over my toned and taut man-flesh, you have to match me stride for stride. I’m straight E-ticket. I’m Space Mountain, not Hall of Presidents.
Mind you, I am not talking about being anorexic or being a twig-and-grass eating fanatic, because that’s where detractors of my perspective tend to take the conversation. I’m not talking about all of the many imperfections we all have which cannot be changed. I’m just talking about being healthy and fit. And not “in your mind,” but actually fit which only ever shows up on one’s body.
Second, I take exception to the “heroin era” implication that a person needs to bottom out in a trench of substance excess to reach any sort of meaningful epiphany about beauty or worth. Ladies (and gentlemen), smoking does not make you “more interesting.” Certain drugs you can get away with sampling, or consuming in moderation. Heroin and tobacco aren’t on that list. Heroin is not sexy or cutting edge. It’s just another reward center commodity. It’s exactly the same as eating frozen pizzas and shotgunning Yoo-Hoo. I mean sure, you can inject Easy Cheese into your urethra, fellas. But then what do you have? Well, I’ll tell you. A cheese filled dick. It’s just balls out gluttony and not romantic. It doesn’t give your life texture. It’s boring. You’re boring. Doughnuts serve the same purpose. Or professional sports. Or religion.
Third, don’t follow anyone. Do. Get out of your country. Mix it up. Columnists and professional advice are fugging awful. Listen, consider. But never just copy/paste someone’s perspective. They really don’t know anymore than you. Except me. I definitely know more than you.
Fourth, ALWAYS use a condom. Always. Goddamn it. Always. ALL-WAYS.
Alright, screw this. I got lots more, but I just made some fresh baked lemon-cranberry scones and my beer is getting warm, so figure this life shiz out for yourself. Out!
Oh, wait. One more… Shave your pits, please. I don’t like to shave my face. It sucks. But, ladies, I do it. You’re welcome. We have an unspoken (now spoken) pact. Hold up your end of that agreement. Shave!
I don’t have the words. Except I just shared that moment that every writer aspires to have, which is the feeling that you reached across the table and took my hand.
I cried in commiseration, and also in recognition.
You were born to write. Keep it up.
And thank you.
53 years old and and still waiting. Let’s face it, no one will ever love me. I found myself telling someone the other day about what I want to be when I grow up. The truest part of what you said is “Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose.” And for all that, I’m happier now than when I was a 20 year old drug addict.
Beautiful! Thank you … I wish I could say something more uplifting to my 20-something self, because my advice to my 20-something self would be:
When you were feeling suicidal because the girl you were in love with wasn’t interested: first of all, count yourself lucky–she didn’t turn out so great. But neither did you, and all that nonsense from your friends and your self about how things will get better and you will find someone someday is a bunch of lies. You will become the pathetic loser you feared, and then some. Just do it.
“You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave…Be brave enough to break your own heart.” Thank you. I needed to hear that.
Beautiful, Sugar.
Dag,
For someone who’s never read a Sugar column, you certainly have a lot of criticisms of her advice. I suspect you’re not being completely honest in your premise, or maybe you’re just full of it. I will say this much–if you think you’re the first to disagree with “the deity,” well, you have a false sense of the community here, and you think way more of yourself that you probably ought to. You’re not that special.
One last thing. The pits comment? Do you really think you’re doing “the ladies” a favor by refusing to grow a beard? I hear some of them like facial hair. I even hear that some men–as long as we’re inhabiting a hetero-normative space for the moment–like women with hair on them. It’s not all about you and your tastes, you know.
Very moving—full of practical wisdom. But I find myself wanting to know what happened with the wood floor fuck. Pregnant? Herpes? I’m such a dirt eater.
Yes. God Damn it. Yes.
dag, your contribution to this forum was revolting … what is the matter with you?
I’m glad some people liked this post. To me is seems like a recount of a life full of one bad decision after another. Now you’re looking to come to terms with all those bad decisions. Wouldn’t a little forethought be better advice than basically, “accept all of your many failings in life, things may get better once you calm down and act like an adult”?
Great column. When I was 30 I said to myself, “If I only knew at age 20 what I know now…” At age 40 I said, “If I only knew at 30 what I know now…” The mantra repeats itself as I am now 54, but I know now to simply do the best I can and not live life controlled by fear. Be open, creative, loving, and not afraid to take chances and to not worry what others may think of me.
Paul Harris
Author, “Diary From the Dome, Reflections on Fear and Privilege During Katrina”
I take issue with one part…You may not need a reason to leave someone but if you’ve made commitments to each other then you owe the other person your best effort to provide one–if you want them to respect you. And “I just wasn’t feeling it” doesn’t count. Act like an adult even if you often don’t feel like one.
too bad you weren’t in your 40’s when I was in my 20’s. i’m going to go cry a little now…
thank you for the blunt, amazing wisdom.
You just made me tear up at the very beginning of my work day. Thankyou for your words of wisdom.
Why so negative about Dag? I see some of his points (the hair thing, not so much, though) The fat part is more or less spot on. I eat a lot. I get fat. I sport 5 times a week to counter this and look decent – but more importantly, to be healthy! Don’t be thin because it’s what other people expect. Don’t be thin because other people tell you so. Be medium-sized, because it’s healthy. Be medium-size, because you want to see your grand-children grow up and play catch with them. Do it for you. Do it for your children. Do it for the people who love you. Don’t ever bother to lose weight because random strangers, store personnel or tv stars tell you so. It doesn’t work if you don’t want it for yourself, anyway.
On the column: I’m ‘only’ 27, and I could make a list of things like this for my 15yr old self. I wish I was more outgoing, sported more, didn’t do weed because my long-term memory is unreliable ever since, spend less time in online games and more with girls and friends outside, but most important of all: make peace with who you are now and work up from there instead of trying to be someone you’re not. Don’t dye your hair yellow, it won’t look that good. Love your sisters, they may be annoying but they’re just teens going through a phase, just like you.
Stuff like that.
Thank you, Sugar. Anything I say would be a repeat of what other people have already said in the comments. But I have to add my own thank you, especially for the useless days that add up to something, the writing in the journal, the long walks. Yes. How could we possibly be ourselves without these things? Thank you.
wow! i’m not a girl. i’m not in my 20s. but i am damned impressed. beautiful post.
First things first, thank you Sugar! Thank you, thank you!
And now on to Dag. My first instinct was to simply disregard his comments as petty and useless, but then I realized that he too deserves our thanks. His cold, superficial reaction offers, by way of contrast, a perfect illustration of how beautifully human Sugar’s words are. Where he implies there are universal standards and expectations for fatness and thinness that all people should strive for, Sugar offers personal, intimate experiences and feelings in the hopes that her truths will ring true for others. Where he goes off on a rant about the dangers of heroin (and cigarettes) and completely misreads Sugar’s story to be an “implication that a person needs to bottom out…to reach any sort of meaningful epiphany,” Sugar simply shares a story from a time in her life, without hyperbole, glorification or self-pity. Where he blathers on about his standards of grooming (and all that it offers “the ladies”), Sugar engages in an honest and frank exploration of herself as a 20-something, in the hopes that her truths will ring true for others. I thank you Dag, for being the anti-Sugar, for viewing the world with such a shallow lens and for sharing with us your indignant, childish, self-indulgent “amendments” such that we can better appreciate the beauty and generosity that is at the heart of Sugar’s column.
thank you, Sugar, for the smiles and for the tears. you’re one of those rare people who’s beautiful up close and far away and even when you swear. wish I’d had you to look to for advice when I was 22.
Sugar you are amazing and I couldn’t have read this at a more perfect time.
DAG- I work out, I shave, I wear condoms, I’m drug-free, and definately control my own life. You know what the real problem is? There are people out there JUST LIKE YOU.
Sugar was sharing her experience you dumbass. You were obviously a poor english student to take this writing so LITERAL. I would tell you to grow-up but I feel kind of bad doing that considering your my Dad’s age.
Love Always,
L
you are so inspiring! thank you so much for giving such great advice and telling such memorable stories.
love and light. xxxo.
One of my best friends from high school sent me this; we are in our mid-forties now. It brought feelings of nostalgia and empathy with each inhale and sympathy and compassion with each exhale right until the closing of last sentence.
I want to reach out to my friends, both in the real world and virtual, who are in their twenties, and tell them the same: The useless days will add up to something. It comes full circle. You have to go through the storm to see the rainbow sometimes, though. Clarity comes with a price. For me, calm came after the storm, but it came.
Precious Sugar,
Thank you. I’m in my mid-60’s, and I’m sitting here with tears of empathy trickling down my (remarkably un-wrinkly) cheeks. Empathy for you, for my three kids, and for the 20-something me who could have done with a bit of this advice — indeed, who desperately needed it. I have no idea who you are or how old you are, but you are one wise entity. You’re so right about the ‘relearning’. We do learn, and then we get caught up in the kaleidoscope of our existence and we seem to forget some of the important lessons we bought at such a price. But the thing is that when they come round again so that we can relearn them, we do so at a deeper, more meaningful level. And this happens until we truly grok whatever it is. Being compassionate, for oneself as well as for others, makes the whole trip a lot more scenic.
Love, grace and peace . . .
I needed this.
It made my day.
Thank you.
xoxo
simply, love it!
This is the first time I’ve read your column. I’m 26, and every single word spoke to me. I’ll be back 🙂
dear sugar, i don’t know how old you really are and it clearly doesn’t matter. what you’ve written sears through the layers of bullshit. i am in my thirties and many of my friends have posted this and sent it to me but it took the right time, a hard night and a glass if wine to read it. thank you so much because we are ALL that twenty year old girl all of our lives. we need to be reminded that integrity is a learned thing and listening to your own voice is so incredibly important. i would’ve told my twenty year old self to look deeper, listen more and believe in herself. THANK YOU.
how the fuck do you do this week after week? you are magic, thank you.
Dear Person, WHO IS running this advise,….. I need help to get my own advise colunm so plaese help me thanks
chillbumps. love this very much. thanks for being so frank and brave.
My God, that was absolutely amazing!!
Great writer. Great writing. You have ‘it’ and I enjoyed reading every word. I didn’t want it to end.
I don’t know who you are, but do you want to be my new bff….i kid, kid.
Thanks for sharing this….I just about retweeted every sentence, lo.
I’m 37, in the era six months after I left my beautiful marriage (that produced two daughters with his eyes), and just when I thought I had been brave enough to break my own heart, and his, I see that I have to do it all over again. And guess what? The breaking and the healing are the one sure thing. Thanks for a beautiful answer to a 22-year old. May she print it out and re-read it in 15 years.
Amazing words of wisdom. Your last paragraph made me cry.
Just sent this column to my mother, who answered with an extraordinary motherfucking letter. We have not always had the easiest relationship; nor has she had with her own mother. Letter below.
“Hi Sweetheart,
Thanks so much for sharing that with me, it’s great, just one brilliant nugget after another! It made me want to share something with you, I hope you’ll see why… you know where she writes about the wisdom of age, and “most of these things have to do with forgiveness?”… Well I recently found this note Grandma wrote me in Feb. ’94 that made me cry:
‘Darling —
………..and a little treat for you for spring. It’s coming!
Sometimes I just like to quietly think of the kind of person my daughter has become. I’m so proud of you — you’ve had such a tough row but never stopped trying to reach that light you see at the end of the tunnel. It’s coming too!
And I love you so much.
Kiss your daughter for me — she’s my darling, too….’
This is one of those things that help explain why I have never been able to write Grandma off, the bad so outweighing the good etc. There was just no need to rant about the good. It was quieter, but every bit as real, I’ve come to believe. This little note, or re-discovering it, is for me much like the warm coat of that column. And I won’t have regrets.
So what does all this have to do with you? Well it’s that I love you the way Grandma loved me at her best and most authentic, the mysterious unbroken mother-daughter thing at its deepest level. It’s that you have a place in her heart too that she would want you, somehow, fo believe.
It’s that I am also so proud of YOU, of how hard you’re working, of your decisions, of your ability to handle whatever happens, of the woman you’ve become.
Spring is coming for you too!
xoxox,
me”
Oh… OH.
Sugar, I know this is an older post, but… it just broke me down sobbing.
I am twenty-five, I have no career or degree, and I feel sometimes as though I have the worst sort of failure of a life. This was exactly what I needed – a reminder that everything adds up to make my life unique and extraordinary, that there will always be those tiny beautiful things.
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Sugar,
Thank you for this. I’ve been finding myself coming back and rereading this over and over. You soothe my self doubt, my worries, my insecurities. Thank you. I’m so often caught up with worrying if I’m doing the right thing or sometimes just worrying over what exactly to do. This is my permission. Thank you so much.
Ugg. Okay. I’m a 33 year old woman. Very creative, sensitive, independent, strong, blah blah blah. This did not make me cry, did not make me want to pass it on to all of my friends, but just made me roll my eyes. See, I don’t think it’s wrong to feel sad about your belly. No matter what anybody says sometimes YOU JUST FEEL LIKE THAT. That does not mean you’re shallow and does not mean that you read too many fashion magazines. It means you are human and that you can’t always love yourself. You can’t go through life without judging yourself or measuring yourself against others in the world. You can try, sure, but if you do find yourself getting bummed out over being chubby, then that’s fine. You can change your belly if you want and it doesn’t mean you’re priorities are fucked up. It doesn’t mean that people who seem like they don’t care about those things are more enlightened than you. People are motivated by all sorts of things and some women are super competitive. They don’t get a thrill out of journaling constantly. They want to build something that makes them feel accomplished. For some, writing in a journal is fine, but sort of boring when there’s a whole world to explore and enjoy. Just because you’re 22 and get super excited by competing for a super tough job and aspire to start your own company doesn’t mean you’re not “getting it” or that you’re not enjoying your life. I’d tell a woman in her twenties to find what they are passionate about no matter how boring or cliche or odd it may seem. It could be writing, it could be chemistry. Make sure to incorporate that passion into your life whether it be through your work or not. And realize that your passions will change and grow. Be open to discovering new things. Oh, and marry rich. Juuuuuuust kidding.
Wow. This is perfect. 🙂
“You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love.”
But it is a terrible thing to do.
As a woman in her twenties I cannot thank you enough. I have been struggling these last three years in figuring out who I am and what I will be doing after college with a career and the numerous other things I want to do and experience. It’s tough and a very rough road to travel. I woke up this morning feeling like a complete failure because among other things, the plan I had set out for myself has long since been squandered. Today I was so lost, I am still lost, but you’re bit of wisdom has helped in giving me more hope and the encouragement to embrace it, let it go, and enjoy what is right in front of me.
This is just so beautiful. And beautifully written too. It’s Holy Week in the Philippines right now and we’re contemplating about our lives and where we are in the now. And this is a good piece to reflect on for us. I’d like to share this. Thank you for this. 🙂
I’ve been skeptical about you so many times and for so many reasons in the past, Sugar. Just needed to say that I love you. This was beautiful and sorrowful and heart-wrenching and encouraging. Thank you.
I love Sugar, and love almost all of this post, but I am so convinced that my boyfriend of 5 years recently broke up with me because he read this:
“You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.”
He broke my heart, too. Shattered it. Don’t just leave because you want to. Talk to the other person. Let them know you think you might want to leave, and why, and then work it through together. Don’t just go. It’s a terrible, cruel thing to do.
Wow.
I only stumbled across these Dear Sugar posts a couple of days ago, and am gradually working my way through them. This one completely stopped me in my tracks. I’m going through a really difficult time with depression at the moment, which is shrouding everything good in my life in darkness. There are parts of this post, Sugar, that I swear to God felt like they were written for me! You have no idea how much this has helped me see a little more clearly.
Thank you
I didn’t know the words to use to convey how amazing this was, but at the end of your letter I realized that sometimes all that is needed is a simple “thank you.”
So thank you.
I am a psychologist and work with a lot of the issues you write about. Your columns are SO GOOD i have copied them for my clients. Your writing is incredibly poignent, emotionally riveting and as a therapist practicing for over 25 years, your advice is right on the money and rich with helpful details of how to execute your suggestions. I discovered you in the Sun magazine and really appreciate the compassion and kindness you express while not mincing words in making your points. You are really terrific. keep up the great work!
Thanks for this! Not my life (I’m pretty tame) but in the whole I felt identified. Now I’ll try to keep on to my 23rd bday.
You give me courage to write. You give me company in being just another fucked up, sometime-heroin-entangled, ill-advisedly-promiscuous, sometimes-rounder-than-others pastiche of a woman. And, you give me company in loving a dead mother, a person you don’t feel you can live without, every single minute of the day, and yet have to accept that you can live without. I don’t know what to say beyond what everyone else has said. Thank you.
Wow! This is the first post of yours that I have ever read and I am already in love with you….I may not devour you but I did devour words!
oh wow, this post is so incredibly beautiful. thank you.
You have many admirers and now have another ( and many more, since I forwarded this to my friends). I so needed this today and my great friend was kind enough to sense it and send it on. You are a beautiful writer and I laughed and cried through this piece. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. Yours forever ( and not in a crazy way)
Say Thank You…
You made me cry. So, I’m saying THANK YOU!
i mean, everyone has already said so, but this is utterly beautiful. i’ve read these types of articles before- “letters to my former self” type articles. someone gave me a book of them at my graduation acutally. i’ve never thought any of them were as beautifully written, insightful, or thought-provoking as this one. thank you for writing this!!
“Say thank you”
Now I really know what to do.
Thank you!!
I am a first time reader for this column, and this broke my heart into pieces to read. The most beautiful things are simply said and heartfelt and this letter states sincerely what is often the hardest things to say. Thank you so much for this.
To quote a favorite show of mine, you are a light in dark places.
this is the first post i’ve ever read on this site (i saw it linked on eat the damn cake) but it definitely won’t be the last. the bit about your mum made me call my own straight away. thanks so much
Fantastic!
Sugar,
Whenever I’m feeling down or ungrateful or less than my best, I read this. It helps me every time. Thank you.
Love,
Jennifer, age 19 🙂
Gosh Sugar, 20 was such a pivotal year for me. The year my views on myself and others changed. I was raped when I was 20 by someone I trusted very much who was the boyfriend of someone I thought loved me very much. I don’t know now whether I would tell myself to lock the door or not to wait for the breakdown 6 months later to deal with it. Take away that moment or deal with it sooner?
Who would I be if it never happened? Where would I be and what would I be doing? Would I have finished my college education, would I have pushed myself and my family to the limits I did?
I would tell that girl that she will make it through and come out the other side. She doesn’t need to fill her body with food and booze and any other man that looked her way just to prove she is the one who calls the shots.
I love you Sugar. Thank you for taking me back. I remember that girl, not a care in the world, everyone loved her and she loved everyone. What a beautiful girl she was.
Love, Broken and Pieced Together
At 19, I’ve been searching the web for advice from someone older and wiser, and your post pretty much summed it all up. Everything I’ve been worrying about (mainly the weight thing) seems so trivial when I stand back and look at the bigger picture. Thanks for your advice; I’m sitting here crying in my school library.
Love,
Maria
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sugar,
Words cannot express how I feel, so I’ll say it the one way I can.
Thank you.
Thank you. For each of them. For the condom, for the career, for the not going to be okay, for the not understanding people, for letting go of love, and for not worrying about my stomach. Why is that so so so hard not to do?
THANK YOU.
Thanks, Sugar. This amazing piece is in the Resources in my new book http://www.discardia.com/MoreLifeLessStuff.html
Thank you for the inspiration!
You inspired me. I’m only 15, but I’ve learned some stuff since middle school.
Dear Me,
It’s okay to play pretend and have imaginary friends, no matter what those kids in your 5th grade class said. It doesn’t matter that that girl pulled out your private diary and read the bit about the boy you liked being a “knight in shining armour” right in front of his face. It hurt your feelings, and that matters, but what doesn’t matter is what they think of you, because their opinions are worthless, and that boy will turn out to be a jerk anyway. It’s also, contrary to that class’s collective belief, okay to cry. In front of people. You’re only 10, and even grown-ups cry sometimes, even in public. And don’t let those nightmares about that other mean boy coming to your new school bother you. He won’t show, and even if he did, you’d be brave enough to walk right up to him, smile, and tell him how much his bullying scarred your heart. Without being mean, either.
Stop wearing make-up. You’re 11 now. ELEVEN. So you have a few zits. Who cares if all the kids in your 5th grade class called you zit-face? That doesn’t mean that these new kids at this new school will be anywhere near as mean. Anyway, you’re wearing too much foundation. You look orange, which is worse than acne.
Stop bullying people. I know you were bullied, and I know it still hurts, and I know that you feel that if people want to understand you they have to hurt, too. But trust me — these people are already hurting. That boy you called disgusting to his face has a dad who left home. And that girl who you sneer at and call ugly on a regular basis is going to go to rehab in a few months for cutting herself. You’re making their lives terrible. Stop it.
Don’t lie to Mom and Dad about your homework. You hate school. You hate academic work because it limits your imagination. You don’t do your homework because you hate it and anyway, you keep forgetting. But don’t lie about it. Just tell the truth. That way Mom and Dad can help you, and you won’t have to work your butt off to regain their trust. (Also: If you do choose to lie, Mom and Dad still love you SOOOOO much. They may not trust you, but you mean more than life to them. And don’t worry, Daddy still thinks you’re pretty.)
In 7th grade you’re going to move to another new school to have a fresh start. You won’t have anyone to sit with at lunch. Find someone. Don’t just buy a 50 cent poptart and go eat in a bathroom stall. First of all, that’s disgusting. Second of all… you deserve to have friends. Even though you’re a recovering bully. Even though you’re a recovering compulsive liar. Yes, even though you have acne, frizzy hair, a long skinny neck and crooked teeth. And these people really do want to be your friends. Really. Just give them a chance.
I know you’re going to hate Mrs Brown and Mrs Wright at first. Just letting you know that in a few months they’ll be the best grown-ups that could possibly have entered your life at this moment. Mrs Brown will help you stop lying, and you will be one of her favorite students even though you will lie to her face about homework twice. Major lies, too. And Mrs Wright may be strict, but she likes you. I promise. Both of these women see who you really are — not who you THINK you are, but who you REALLY are: a talented, smart, sweet-spirited, accepting, affectionate, creative, highly imaginative princess. They want you to see that, as well.
Mr Blackard is going to yell at you in front of the whole percussion class. It’s going to make you cry. For the next two years, you will cry every time you think about it, because it will be the most humiliating experience you’ve ever gone through. Just remember — no matter what he says about you, you are NOT irresponsible. Absent-minded? Yes. Head-in-the-clouds? Yes. But that is the result of your natural imagination and intuition. You are NOT an irresponsible person. Don’t EVER let yourself believe that. DON’T. IT. IS. A. LIE.
You are going to go to Venezuela on a mission trip. You’re going to meet a boy. He will be handsome and charming, and will think you’re very pretty. He will also be three years older than you (you’ll be 13). He’ll try to give you a shell necklace, as a symbol of his “devotion”. Don’t take it. The second you get back to the States, he’ll remember his pretty and age-appropriate next-door neighbor, and your adolescent heart will break. Go ahead and de-friend him on FaceBook. He’ll only “chat” with you when you put up pretty profile pictures.
When you’re about 14, you’ll suddenly realize how very unique you are. You’ll understand why those kids in 5th grade didn’t like you, and why only a two boys have ever liked you back: because you are DIFFERENT. About the same time, you will realize that because of your uniqueness, you have never had a real best friend. You have though of many people as your best friend, but the sentiment was never returned. You will want to sink into depression as the full force of your strangeness hits you, and you realize that you are the only person in the entire world like you, and you find yourself very, very lonely in the world. Don’t sink. In just a few months, you’ll start homeschooling. It’ll be the best decision you ever made. It’s true, you are the only person in the entire UNIVERSE like you, and when you start homeschooling you are going to meet a group of kids who will LOVE this about you, and who will, slowly but surely, help you to embrace this, even enjoy it, too.
It’s okay to like it when guys give you attention. You’re PRETTY. They’re going to notice, especially now that you’re older. And you know what? The kind of attention you’re getting, where your guy-friends tell you on a regular basis how pretty you are and never expect anything in return, you DESERVE that. You DESERVE to be treated with respect and affection. You should NEVER settle for anything less.
Don’t worry. You’re going to find a best friend who does return the sentiment — two, actually. One boy, one girl. The girl will share your imaginative and curious spirit. The boy will share your sense of humour and affectionate nature. Yes, you will be able to share whole conversations with them entirely made up of movie quotes. The three of you will love each other dearly.
You’re going to meet a boy. A boy with startlingly blue eyes and a heart so full of love for God he might burst. Keep an eye on him. I think he might be the One.
Tell your mom every day how pretty she is. She doesn’t know.
Your brother and sister are blessings from God. Make sure they know this.
Break off your friendship with a certain girl early on. She is not the kind of person you want to be friends with. You’ll regret hanging on to her later on.
Jesus loves you. Honestly. He is IN LOVE with you. He likes to take you out on dates, and He likes it when you dance, even if you aren’t as graceful as a ballerina, and He likes it when you where yellow, because that color makes you happy. Remember that. It’s so much easier to be happy when you remember that.
You’re going to make movies some day. Stop being confused and start writing screenplays. It’ll save time.
I love you. I used to hate you, but I have learned to love you. When you grow up, you’ll come to love me, too.
Don’t be afraid to be whimsical, and don’t be too eager to grow up. It’s STILL going to be okay to have imaginary friends and play pretend — even when you’re 15. 🙂
— love, Lauren
@Lauren:
It was totally worth it to peruse through all of the “worship” of this woman’s advice, devoid of The Answer to all of life’s biggest questions, and to discover your beautifully-written wisdom that defies what most of us “mature adults” expect from a 15-year-old. If I could give you any advice from my life experiences it would simply be to cling to Jesus, the Author and Perfector of your beautiful, unique soul, with everything that is in you. To date, He is the ONLY One who has never – ever – let me down, hurt me, disappointed me, insulted me, or made me feel anything but wholly and completely LOVED. The best part? This is a decision you will NEVER regret. God bless you, precious girl!
I don’t understand why this is so truly brilliant, but it is. Thankyou.
Josh, I dont think you’ve made any enemies, people just disagree with you. I can say it’s okay to disagree with me, no harm done. We have far more in common than we do not in common. I think many Christians feel they have to defend the gospel, against the culture. They feel they have to forcefully change culture by demonstrations against it. This has not worked and will not work. The only thing that can change culture is by peoples hearts changing one at a time. It doesnt come by repeating John 3:16 over and over to them, you can ask anyone on the street that and they can quote it. The culture will change when people see Christians whose lives match the message. The message is about love loving God and others. When people see believers loving them and not just preaching at them, you’ll see culture change. When people see believers who acknowledge their own struggles, failures and shortcomings, and not a bunch of people pretending to have it all together, and who have all the answers, you’ll see culture change. How is the kingdom built, one person at a time. Put this in persepctive for a second, Christianity is not about sin management, when it’s made out to be , the religion itself becomes a stumbling block from people actually knowing Jesus and it makes for a miserable walk with Him. Also remember Jesus’s biggest enemies weren’t “secular people”. He wasn’t at war with them, and he didnt walk around poking his finger in their faces telling them to repent or burn in hell because of someting they did or didnt do. His enemies were the religious right at the time, who were telling people do this and that to get to God. Follow this law and that law and you’ll be right with God. I dont think Jesus would be protesting Twilight or Harry Potter. He would probably be friends with alot of the people who enjoy the books and watch the movies.
Dear Sugar,
Last night my friend and I took a walk around the Boston Commons. We’re both almost 21. We wondered why we were the only non-couple out that night. We talked about how we felt we were the only two single girls in Boston, how we feel alone even when we’re surrounded by people. We’re both scared of and intrigued by what comes next in life. What major to pursue? What job to take? Where to live? How to act? Who to be? We just want to fast forward and see where we end up. We both have so much love to give, and neither of us have found the right person to give it to. That leaves us wondering what’s wrong with us. She sent me the link to your column today. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Not only did I have a much-needed cry, but I have never felt so reassured in my entire life. There is nothing wrong with me. I just need to be patient. I just need to relax. I’m just twenty.
I dont normally feel things or have “emotions” but something akin to tears are welled up in my eyes
Thank you. Some serendipitous Google search lead me to your lovely post and it turned out to be exactly the thing I needed.
“Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue.”
I thought only the Paulo Coelho’s of the world wrote like this. This was so good to hear, I actually cried a little (which isn’t that hard, but hey). Forgive me if I quote this in my own blog.
this is beautiful! xx
This is a gem that I’ll come back to, again and again. I am 25. Much of this speaks to me, but in particular, in this moment, after months of struggle and heartache, I needed the reminder to be brave enough to break my own heart, and possibly someone else’s. For my sake and his.
Thank you, Sugar. Your words mean the world to me.
This is the best thing I’ve read in a long time. Thanks,Sugar for letting me visit my twenty-something self again.
just, thank you.
i’m in my twenties and it seems that there’s much for me to appreciate before its too late.
Today is my 40th birthday. Thank you for saying the words I needed to hear.
I always remember to read this, right when I need it.
Thank you, reading this really warmed my heart this afternoon. Don’t ever stop writing
I can’t stop crying. This is too beautiful.
This is amazing. I’m 24 and this is exactly what I needed to read. I’m very lucky to have found this– thanks for writing it.
“Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go.” Awww Sugar, this is so me right now. I held on so tight I was choking myself. Letting go was the hardest and the best thing I could do. Your words touch my heart. Thank you.
Of course I’m crying. Beautiful writing.
This article is profound; From the first time I read it to all the times I’ve revisited it since, I find it to be increasingly insightful and empowering. Thank you so much for this beautifully written, honest and encouraging piece of work. It has definitely made an impact on my life.
this might have changed my life. i hope to do the same for someone else.
As a 24 year old woman literally struggling, wanting so badly to give up,
This made me cry. And gave me some encouragement. I don’t know you, but I am so very grateful for your words.
This: “One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.”
Anyone who has ever suffered so much that drugs seem like the only answer, or fallen into the arms of drug pleasure because nothing really matters anymore, and has flailed to get back out of the quick sand that drug dependency is, and managed to escape alive and unscathed, will know this feeling well.
This made me cry.
And I’m crying. Just beautiful.
This letter has changed my life. I have been abusing myself, physically and mentally, because I feel responsible for ending a relationship because I was not in love with the person anymore. I felt like no one will ever love me as much as him and I did not deserve anything good for hurting him. After reading “Tiny Beautiful Things,” particularly this letter, I am now able to sit and say, “Everything’s going to be okay. Everything is okay” without anxiety, and most importantly, with confidence. Thanks, Sugar, and thanks Seeking Wisdom for asking this question.
These words ring so beautiful and true. Sugar, your writing heals souls. thank you. thank you. thank you.
This is beauty.
To paraphrase Richard Bach ” I spent my life becoming the person I am today! Was it worth it?” I can truly say it was, and that the rest of the crap that came with it was just the coin!
Thank you, Sugar! We all need to know we are not alone in our struggles!
My friend, who is always looking out for me, just linked me to this post. I don’t even know if you manage to read all of these comments, but thank you so much anyway.
I’ve been feeling so down and depressed and this is exactly what I needed to read at this point in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can go to bed tonight feeling a bit more hopeful about the future.
You had me hooked until the girl on the bus and the fucking mexican restaurant..in love but really can go fuck himself and the kid with his eyes…really?? but maybe that is the point. such beautiful depth sunk into stupid… Was very truly moved yet I might dive in with the gay couple. Subjective really depends on the I and how brave and searching I am.The first verse says it all, no need to keep going. Would like to teach my daughters not to roll around on the wooden floor without a condom but too young..love that part and for most made me smile…and thereafter get sometimes irritated
This left me in tears!!! At 26 I’m sure I’m among those that should be reading this. Not everything made sense to me quite yet, but some things did. . . down to the long, puffy coat from my late mother. She gave it to me after my surgery. I still have it.
Bittersweet.
This is beautiful. I’m all teary reading this.
Wow. My instructor assigned this to our class, but it is so much much more than a reading for me.
Dear Sugar,
Thank you. Reading your article made me realise everything will be okay, my problems/worries will work out, and all will be well. For this, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.
Love,
Kiran
Is this post where the title of the book comes from?
“One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.”
sugar,
i am only 14 years old and you are such an awesome writer that whenever i feel low i read your novel ‘Tiny Beautiful Things’.you are just mesmerizing ,wonderful and fantastic.
It reminds me of the time I got my poor car stuck in the mud. I accidentally parked on wet grass. There I am pumping the accelerator and going nowhere. My tires are spinning, mud is flying, and I’m sinking deeper and deeper.
I have saved this page since reading it in 2011. Every once in awhile it falls into my line of sight whilst looking for another file or something, it guts me every time still and I am reminded why I’ve kept it.
Thank you for the random gut checks.
Click here to subscribe today and leave your comment.