It seems odd that somebody would write everyday for almost the last 6 years with little to no accolades to speak of. I mean of course I have tons of positive feedback, and some not so much, by why would I continue to pour out my heart this way with no kickback to sort of speak of.

Six years of writing doesn’t get you much other than a sense of accomplishment I suppose. A place to pour your heart out in the attempt that maybe this time you might get it right. Kind of like a sounding board to bounce off ideas to see what was meant for you and what might never come back.

My desire was to be as open an honest as possible in the hopes that I would find some like minds or individuals who thought similar or maybe we thought the same. People who don’t like to sit back we question the norm and ask each other how is it that society had gotten this way.

Over the years I have written about EVERYTHING. My personal thoughts, feelings and even relationships which have been paid for with the ultimate price. So many people see me as a loaded weapon but I see it as an opportunity for others to want nothing more than to be kind.

I want to pull out the similarities that we all share so we can see that maybe we are more similar in every possible way. We are all struggling on our own two feet to keep our head above water as there is always somebody above us holding our head down so that we begin to drown.

My writing is a testament to my life and the similarities that I can draw out from those that have lived before. I guess my end goal is to try and find out the real reason behind life by drawing to conclusions that some have never seen before. Like what makes some of us evil and do despicable things or the Universe taking an infant shortly after it has been born. Why?

The why’s of the world is what keeps me looking for answers as I try to take a step back and see life through the eyes of my son. His life is just starting where mine is tapering off so I want to try and provide for him during this time while I still can.

My writing becomes a dump of feelings and emotions for me. It takes me to a place where I can really relinquish my mind. The burden we carry everyday trying to do the right thing can become rather obnoxious and it can make our ears begin to ring.

Stuff your emotions so far down that you will begin choke and that lack of oxygen will make you believe deplorable things. When they begin to cut you off from oxygen that is when they finally begin to win. You become crazed, irritable, irrational as you wave your hands in anxious abandonment hoping that somebody will save you so that your life can begin again.

It’s a slippery slope when you write about personal experiences because somebody is always waiting in the wings to take you out at the jugular. Be it by a swift laceration made by a knife or a firm right hand grabbing on to your neck tight there is always somebody out there waiting to stop you from returning safely home at night.

That is what drives me. How dare anybody else impose on our free will and what that could look like. I know that at times I come across as judgmental but that is just my fears manifesting into life. Until you have been struck by somebody you loved or abandoned because they believe you are worthless, gutter trash you go on your merry way until a monster crosses your path. You have to believe that they are out there preying on the weakest most innocent, how else do they get their fill so they can live another day?

I also write to get better. Maybe I will write a movie or a book one day. Do people still write or is it all on audio now? How different the world appears to me now. I grew up during a time when there was only one channel and you couldn’t record tv shows, well unless you had a VCR. I can’t even remember what VCR stood for because wouldn’t you know after about 20 years that contraption became obsolete. Right before VCR there was BETA which was a device that even played smaller tapes, so of course in my mind books and reading would always be common place. Eeeeekkk not anymore as we live in the era of social media and Tic Tock.

Imagine those that hand wrote books just to get their point across. They would dedicate years upon years to finish a manuscript in the hopes that there editor would want to print it off. Ahhh the printing houses the reason why so many of our forests were wiped clean but it was all for a purpose and all to prove a point.

Books to me are the icing on every cake and I can’t believe there was a time when they would burn books in the middle of the street. All to erase another’s opinions and ideologies. I think that is when we should have recognized that the world was turning mean.

I write so I can leave my impression onto the world so that maybe my life in essence may not have been in vain. If I can reach out to just one and inspire and make an impact then I think that I may have gotten something a little bit right.

During this time of incredible uncertainty I think my friends and family will have no question I am who I said I am. I write in the hopes of providing better for my family to inspire others to open up about there journey and do what feels right.