I know what to means to be hungry. More to the point, I understand what it means to want or to need or to have desire, so great and so huge, or to have dreams that I can see, yet I can’t touch them.
But I want to.
I know what it feels like to be at the bottom of the hill, looking up, and seeing the climb ahead of me.
Who doesn’t?
I can tell you that I have a clear understanding of intimidation. I know about doubt. I understand the heavy chains of disbelief which weigh us down; furthermore, I have found myself drifting away, as if to be moving in slow motion and there I am, watching my dreams evaporate before my eyes. Life passes me by, like an unwilling participant who willingly gave up on a goal, simply because I never believed the goal could be achieved.

Do you know what this makes me?

Despite my flaws and although they may be weighty or lengthy, and despite whichever challenges I face, deep down, I know what love is.
No. Really.
I do.
So regardless of where I find myself in this big arena, which is also known as middle-income or middle class, or dead center and on the scene; and even if I rush to the upper echelons and become posh or if I clean up and polish up nicely; no matter where I end up on this big conveyor belt, which I call Project Earth, I know who I am.
No one can tell me about me because I know me, personally.

It is inaccurate to assume or to think that no one else hurts or feels pain. This is more common than we think or talk about.
Life is out there. Always.
Life is happening to everyone, right now in fact, which is of no surprise to anyone

I know that this is all just another mission. Or as I say often, it’s just another day in paradise.
I know that today is nothing more than another moment in time, and that regardless of where we are now, we are all stationed here for a short period of time, which means time is ticking, my friends.
The clock is moving.
And dig it –
The world is not going to spin in a different direction just because we ask it to, and time is never going to slow down.
A minute will always be a minute, an hour is only an hour and a day is only a day. However, our relation and the way we view the time can make time seem like a blink of an eye, or otherwise, time can move slowly and a minute can seem like a lifetime.

This journal is all about the question
What now?
And this entry was inspired by a new friend with an old soul . . .

Sometimes, the best answer is to know that there is no answer. There are going to be times when you don’t know what to do—or there will be times when you can’t move, as if too much is happening at once, and your body is stalled, as if to be caught in some uncomfortable submission, or you’re stuck and emotionally paralyzed; or in the case that your heart and your head are mismatched, and your body is at odds with what’s happening around you—and when life takes on a newly unfortunate or unexpected shape and you don’t know what do—sometimes, the best move is not to do anything.
Just pause.

I see this as a quick and important note for those who live in their divorced life or for those who find themselves in their divorced mindsets and for those who have a need to be heard or have the need to be right. Before I say anything else, I want to say that I understand this from a personal perspective. While my opinion is subjective to me, I understand that there are certain relatable concepts when it comes to parenting and co-parenting in an otherwise tough or hostile environment.

I have seen what happens when being right is more important than being happy. I have seen what happens when pride and ego comes first. And no, nothing good comes from this.
Or, okay—

What I want to do now is go back. And yes, I mean I want to go way back. I want to go back to a time when I was young. I was sick but I was too young to understand why or what it meant to have gastroenteritis. I was too young to understand big words like this, or adult words that doctors use. I was far too young to understand why I was in and out of the hospital.

I didn’t know much about these things.
I only knew that I was sick and at the time, it seemed as if nothing was going to help me feel better.

Most people will never believe this about me, but I am shyer than I appear. I’m scared of people and while I understand that I am a public speaker, I have social anxiety and stage fright that often causes me to vomit before I do my presentations.
And, too, I am much more submissive than I ever wanted to be. However, it has been years. Through the experiences of my past or my efforts to improve as a person, when it came to the moments when enough was enough, or when the discomfort of my surrounding was too great, I had to find whatever it was within me to respond or stand up. When I found this, I had to allow myself to be heard, and heard clearly.

There is no one on the face of this world who hasn’t lived or thought or felt the sting of regret. And that’s the saying. Isn’t it?
That’s the thing about life, right?
“Life . . .No one ever gets out of this alive.”

I remember my first presentation in a high school setting. I have to say that I was as nervous then as I was when I was a kid. I never did well at school. I never fit in well and I never thought that I was “enough” or “cool,” and somehow, I was being brought in as a special speaker.
Although I was fully gown, I was as scared then as I was when I crossed through the double-doors of my own middle school. I say this because I never had a true high school experience. I never went beyond the ninth grade in a formal classroom setting.