In a lot of ways, I find myself having to force the words out.  Writing has always come easy to me.  And in the moments of desperation where I had no one to talk to, or atleast no one I trusted enough to spill my entire gut load – I wrote.  I wrote from where it mattered most, and didn’t care much about what anyone else thought about it.  I wrote, for me.  I wrote through the ups and downs and darkest days of my life, and a lot of times – I don’t want to keep writing.  

I look back over the pain, and sadness.  And I remember.  I remember those days.  Those hard, hard, HARD days.  The days that stretched on like an endless sea.  I remember them, vividly.  Even though I don’t want to.  But to forget them would be deny that they happened.  To deny that they happened would mean that I havent accept, and moved on – so to speak.  But to remember, is hard.

All that is to say that I am stuck.  My life has turned the pages, and I am no longer…stuck.  I am no longer held back, and held down and defeated by death.  Sure, it impacts me.  I nudges me, and shakes me scared on the right day.  But for the most part, I am able to open my eyes and smile – whole heartedly at what life has handed me.  Is it easy?  No.  No its not.  Its not easy to try and navigate the world of a special needs child, while trying to keep another from launching himself head first off the cliffs of life that are so treacherous for teenagers.  Its even less easy when they arent, technically, your own.  

But we manage.  And we smile.  And we laugh.  And one day I will look back and not remember 99% of the problems I had.

Coming here to write, has always been a breath of fresh air.  Its been a place where I could take a deep breath, and refocus.  Its been a place where I can be open, and honest, and not worry.  Its been a place where in the darkest of days, I could unleash all the pent up anger and frustration and confusing thoughts that were so difficult to manage…and not worry about being called crazy.

But life is funny.  In that, it changes.  

It seems almost disrespectful, to come here and write out how happy life is, when buried deep within the archives are the saddened thoughts, and run together sentences that mean nothing to anyone but myself.  It seems wrong to come to such a sad place, a place that is so deep and heavy with the harder things in life – and air my grievances with a person who I happen to dislike today.  Because here.  I know.  I know all the things that say “Don’t hate, because you could lose tomorrow.”  And it stops me.  I holds me back.  It limits me.  

But at the same time, I cant just uproot and leave.  Because for so long, that has been that place that has offered something that no one else could.  

I guess what I am trying to say, is that I hope to make a transition.  I hope to change.  I hope for this year, to be THAT year.  Much like everyone else, I have hopes and dreams, and goals and life ambitions that will most likely come to the grave with me.  But to give up and admit defeat would be too much.  Instead, I hope that I can learn to close the chapter on my past.  I hope that I can open the door to the future, and once again, let it flow.  Freely.

Because writing, has always given me something.  It has always given me what no one could.  It has always given me that release, and the answers I so deeply craved.  

I hope that in time, I can return to writing.  And maybe, just maybe, I can make that transition from the dark past – to the wild, unknown future that scares and excites me both at the same time.  


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