How to Avoid Writing
While Writing about Writing ✨
One of my goals for the year is to write more, in this newsletter, on my novel, all of it. Just write more. Unfortunately, the first fifteen days of this year have been a battle against a creeping nihilism brought on by… well… gestures vaguely at everything. I woke up on New Year’s Day with a sore throat, and only now, weeks later, am I emerging from the fog of exhaustion and congestion that followed.
The state of the world has seeped into my mind like a slow poison, manifesting in an almost manic, end-of-the-world energy. Yet, here I am, lying lethargically in bed, scrolling endlessly on TikTok—the modern-day oracle showing me horrors, through a tiny, glowing screen, of the fires burning in LA, while the other half of the country is freezing. The dread sits heavy like a stone in my stomach, a reminder that these horrors are not so distant. They feel inevitable, spreading and encroaching on everyone, everywhere.
And yet.
Somewhere in that obsessive scrolling, a single video pulls me from the brink, even if just for a moment.
“I have time for my grief, but I don’t have time for defeat.” (@dutchdeccc on Tiktok)
I replay it, letting the words settle over me. They remind me of something important—the good. The people who resist despair. The ones who show up for each other, pulling together in the face of disaster. Even TikTok, a platform teetering on the edge of extinction here in the United States, hosts a kind of community I haven’t seen elsewhere. Not the slick, commodified "community" other platforms like Meta or X like to peddle, but something rawer, more authentic.
Not that TikTok is perfect, and rightfully so gets dragged for its flaws—but it’s also been a lifeline for so many. I joined during the pandemic, one of the loneliest times the world has seen, and found a space of connection that felt genuinely human. It’s also been home to some of the most inane nonsense I’ve ever witnessed. I’ve laughed and cried on that app. I’ve learned things I didn’t even know I was missing. I felt less alone.
It was just a few days ago while scrolling, I heard about Bad Bunny’s latest album, Debí Tirar Mas Fotos. A masterpiece. The kind of art that immerses you completely, making you feel the full spectrum of being human—it's a love letter to Puerto Rico, rich with the island’s joy and pain and the some deep truths that shine a light on both beauty and injustice. It tells the story of Puerto Ricans who have stayed, those who have left, and the lingering pain of colonialism.
Some of my favorite TikToks are from communities that dig deep into the art they love—books, movies, music. I think of Tefi’s (@hellotefi) heartfelt video about the album and what it meant to her as someone who grew up in Miami, navigating her own diasporic identity. It’s in these moments, these little pockets of humanity, that TikTok transcends being just an app.
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Which is why the looming threat of its ban feels particularly sinister. The fact that all three branches of the U.S. government can unite on this issue, while remaining gridlocked on crises like gun violence, a broken healthcare system, and the ever-growing unhoused population, just to name a few, is laughable if not outright horrifying.
It doesn’t feel like they’re protecting us. It feels like they’re silencing us.
Maybe that’s why I’m struggling to write anything. How do you create when everything around you feels so precarious? When every keystroke feels immensely insignificant in the shadow of systemic collapse? I don’t have a tidy answer. I’m here, procrastinating by writing about procrastination, looking for the small moments of hope that remind me why I bother at all.
And maybe that’s enough. For now.
I think I’m going to go spend some time outside for a bit.
Ways to support LA Wildfire victims: A teenager supporting her fellow teens, Atladena Girls. The non profit I work for, Americares, is responding to restore access to health services and address the most urgent health needs in underserved communities. Lists of vetted GoFundMe campaings: Displaced Black Families, Displaced Latine Families, and Displaced Filipino Families.
There is still some good journalism out there: How a Mole Infiltrated the Highest Ranks of American Militias, There is No Safe Word (re: the allegations against author Neil Gaiman), How Does Divorce Make You Feel?, and Her Mental Health Treatment Was Helping. That’s Why Insurance Off Her Coverage.
For the fourth year in a row I have made a new year vision board that becomes the wallpaper on my laptop until next year.
Excellent piece. 👏🏼👏🏼