It was exactly one year ago today on the eve of the New Year, and like much of the world, I was hoping that the upcoming year would be better than the one before it.
It has been a long time since I’ve seen the beach at Point Lookout.
But is the place for tomorrow’s entry.
Not today.

I look back in hindsight, of course, which is perfect now that I see through eyes with a new perspective. I look forward to ending this chapter or to ending this journal tomorrow.
But again, that’s for tomorrow’s entry.
Not today.

I am always asked why I write about these things. I’ve been told that this is not for everybody.
And I agree that, no, this is not for everybody.
This is for me and for you.
But then again, you are me, and I am you.
At least, I think so.

I’ve been told that the content and items I choose to write about are uncomfortable to think about. I have been told that no one cares about these things or that no one wants to talk about their feelings.
Even more, I have been told to toughen up or to quit harping on the past.
I have been told that I need to move on and stop thinking about the things that broke my heart or the facts of my life, which took place, and I grant that this is true. But this is me, and this is all according to perspective.

Maybe I say this every year, but each year grows further from the past and each year, I think of how distant we have grown. I think about how long it’s been, between then and now.
It’s been 35 years.
35 years is a long time.
I think about the accomplishments and the achievements that take place in a man’s life of 35 years.

What does it mean to, “have it?”
I ask you this question because I know we all have something.
Everyone has something.
Don’t we?
I understand that while this may be vague, I believe there is something relatable to what I am about to say to you.

Everybody wants something. The list may or may not change. Maybe we modify the list as we grow or maybe we change. If anything, our intentions change and so can our intensity to go, or be, or to do what it takes to make something happen.

There is no place left to fall nor turn or run to.
This is it. This is where we begin.

This is where we find ourselves at the starting gate and this is where we begin.
This is the starting point that will lead us to a new life, a new destination, a new hope, and a brand-new existence.
All this takes is effort.

I never thought this would be me or that I would find myself here, trying to redefine my life or that I would come to this point where I am trying to sum my life or, of course, I never thought that I would look to change my life again, or change or change who I am.
I never thought that I would have to come to this place again, and realize the need to change my ways or change the way I think or feel.
I realize that first, I have to remove myself from ego or from the egotistical ways of thinking.
This is not about ego or egotism.
This is not about my lost or hopeless search, nor is this a moment, like when comes before The Creator, humbled or sad, nor is this about the way we look back with regret and wish I could change or redo the elements of time.

And I?

I am the one. I am me against me and again, I am the one who pushed and the one who stood, who fell, who resumed and regained myself, despite my losses, despite my falls and despite my shortcomings; I am still here and still living and breathing despite the threats or the dangers or the so-called powers that be.
The truth is no one can stop the world from turning. No one can stop fate. No one can avoid the bumps and bruises, and nobody can avoid the constant movement of the eventual and the inevitable.
This is life.

It is coming to an end, another year, another trip around the sun, and another batch of four seasons, like winter, spring, summer, and fall.
I am grateful for this – you, the seasons, another trip around the sun, and let’s not forget the lessons we’ve learned together.
I am growing distant from the places of my yesterday. I’m not where I was and as for where I want to be, well, I’m not there.
Not yet.
But I’m trying.