THE ENVELOPE: Blog by Leroy Wan

The funny thing about truly breaking down, is that one never knows when they are going to break down. No one ever knows how long their facade of this perfect impenetrable version that they created of themselves will last. It’s like self inflicted plastic surgery for the soul. The Soul-tox and your heart ridge fillings were not meant to last forever.

The way I think is that, it’s okay to be a hot mess. HOT MESS = OK. Everyone needs to break down sometimes. It’s healthy to be at a point where you are so in touch with your soul that you can’t help but cry or scream or break things a la Audrey Hepburn “Breakfast At Tiffany’s” diva fit. You just need to find an eventual solution to the problem because no one can really afford to break all your things; breathe baby, it will come to you.

But you got to have something that brings you back up when you feel like you are at the same rehab centre that Lindsay Lohan was at too.

I have this envelope.

I was crying yesterday.

Bad.

I just bawled my eyeballs out, first in front of my friends, then alone at home so I could be messy, and not give a fuck about the way I look.

When I was finished; there I was in front of my ghetto bathroom mirror, thinking about why and how I have become this way.

That’s when I opened my envelope.

THERE’S THIS ENVELOPE I HAVE.

Its much more special than any other envelope, I must say. This is the lovechild of Freddie Mercury and David Bowie in envelope form.

Why this envelope is and always will be so special to me, is not because of what it looks like. It’s quite the plain crumpled up piece of glued paper, the edges of it dull and bent inward; stained with what I hope was coffee, dark roast.

There was a sparkly clown sticker, carelessly placed on the top right corner; nothing to find parking for.

But its what was inside of the envelope that I would never trade for any amount of money in the world.

In the ExtraOrdinary envelope were notes my CampOut campmates left for me. I read them whenever I feel like I’m sitting at the bottom of the world.

I read these notes whenever I feel like maybe I’m not strong enough, or brave enough to follow my dreams.

I read them when I feel too weak to truly be myself at all times. I read them when I’m afraid to be truly happy.

This written love that is crammed into this envelope is the geyser that takes me from the bottom of the world to the top of it.

They say I “inspire” them.
They say I’m “lovable”.
They tell me, “I’m not alone”.

So it’s hard not to put on a fucking pair of heels when someone calls you a “New York style, high level artiste”. Or “raw” and “zesty” in the same sentence.

They give me strength.
They tell me never to give up.

And even if someone burned the envelope and all the notes in it, no one can ever take away what they have already given me.

I learned that I am strong. I am able. I am ready.

And if I believe, it will happen.

With a giant note and all my love,

Xxx LW