Sans any expectations or really any idea of what this book entailed, I plucked this copy from a shelf in the art section and decided to give it a go on a whim-- and boy, I did not know that this lovely collection of paper art would also succinctly encapsulate the complex human experience. Ryan not only creates charming and intricate paper art with lovely nature inspired motifs, but weaves a poignant and fiercely honest meditations on loneliness, love, existentialism, and hope. My favorite page reads "What was important, I don't know anymore. What happens when you see less and less the good and more the more the bad? Is that when you begin to die? I have a feeling of longing for something that will last. That will improve. The thought of improvement gives me hope. Without hope I won't survive. I just want things to improve."
This is the book I needed when i was 18: a rumination of the dissatisfaction of life one cannot clearly communicate to other people, and a beautiful summation of the tinges of depression without just a medical jargon and laundry list of symptoms. But truthfully, now also proves timely for this book to enter my internal dialogue and have a conversation with me. As someone undergoing a lot of stressful changes, the hope and excitement of improvement and fulfillment keep me going. I embrace the chaos of change as an exchange for improvement. Ryan argues that a life with everything-- without the deep abysmal lows that spawn the ambition to strive and become better-- would be an awful one. I agree.
I'm inclined to purchase a copy of this book not only so I can continuously soak up its little beauty, but to reread in those harrowing moments of life when you think "Why do I feel this way again?" 'What is the point?" or times where change is the only constant. This book a a little treasure and a perfect gift for someone, especially an adolescent acutely attuned to the pains of life, who might not yet have the language to articulate it or the knowledge that many can empathize with these uncomfortable feelings.
Another favorite page of mine reads "The problem is your heart. It is too big for you alone. And with only you inside, it feels like an empty place." At the moment of reading this, I felt the appropriateness of the title envelope me as I thought to myself, this is for me, this is for me.