In a word

If nothing changes, nothing changes. Would you, out of fear, avoid pain? You could be brilliant, but you are a coward. The height of your joy will never surpass the depth of your sorrow. Life does not give itself to one who tries to keep all of its advantages at once. Keep only that which is essential; discard the rest. A life lived vicariously is not a life, but an apology, a caricature, a corruption, a distortion, a farce, a misrepresentation, a mockery, a parody, a perversion, a sham, a travesty…

Eventually, most things will be okay. Some things will not, though. Sometimes you will fight and lose. Do not despair. Learn from defeat. When the time to hold on has passed, just be held. When you can fight no longer, let another take a stand on your behalf. You need not lead, nor need you follow. Your destiny is your own. Your lamp need light your way, alone. When you cannot love, because hurt like dull, grey wire is wound tightly around your heart, constricting your breath, stifling, asphyxiating, instead, be loved. Trust. Accept. A vast surrender is your only strength. Serenity lies only in acceptance. 

All that is yours will be yours. All that is not, will not. When the warehouse of your destiny has been emptied, either in good time or bad, eventually or prematurely, your life will be over. My warehouse had a lifetime of whisky. Immoderate in its consumption, I finished it much too soon. There is no more, now for nearly twenty years. Either feast of famine, good food remains. Words, too, still come. Maybe there are more of them. Maybe my reticence in speech has rendered a greater reserve for writing. Apparently, there never was any room there for the familiarity of kin, the entertainment of friends. And so I have lived alone. And so these words ensuing.