There are moments of awareness that are common between us. For example, there are times when we say goodbye to people, places, and things.
There are goodbyes, and then there are last goodbyes and of course, there are the final goodbyes that no one realizes that yes, this is our last goodbye and there will never be another opportunity to say “hello” again.

I have experienced all the different types of goodbyes and furthermore, I agree there are last times and times when we’ll say “never again!”
There are moments when we’ll swear to the sky that this is the last time that we will go somewhere or see someone or do something
I have sworn these things off too. I’ve sworn off the things that we’ve tried to swear away or promised ourselves that no matter what, “I’ll never do that again.”

After years of collecting my personal data and studying myself to find a better perspective, I have gathered my past experiences to add them to a pile of my secret yesterdays. I can see how the pile is so high that I swear I could pile them up to the sun.

I find myself asking the constant and age-old questions about me and the black and white difference between good and evil.
First, I have to say that no, I am not a bad man. However, I can attest that yes, I have done bad things.

Perhaps one could argue that I am not a good man either. But yes, I know that I have done good things too.
After all, I am only human.
I am flawed like the rest of us. I have highs and lows and I have two columns next to my name which define the difference between my wins and losses.
And yes. I have both.

When there is no warmth from the sun or when the kindness from the hands of loved ones are gone away or too far to touch and too distant to hear from, and when the room is empty, the crowd is gone and the attention dwindled to an emptiness, there is no way to avoid the reflection in the mirror or the absence of company.
So on I go with my fair share of introspetive therapy.

I think it is important to experience this. I think pain is important, and likewise, I would never wish this or my experience on anyone.
I would never hope for anyone to find themselves alone. I do not wish anyone this kind of thing or to be locked in a cage or separated and isolated in one prison or another.
Justice is due to the right justice.
And none of this is about any of that.

More than what I see and even more that what you think or assume, and beyond what either of us think or feel or believe about the reflection I see in the mirror, there is an ongoing truth concerning the difference between facts and opinion.
There are certain facts which go beyond our approval and denial.
One of these facts are I am me and you are you and despite faults and flaws or similarities and differences; we both live and breathe. Then again, living and breathing are left up to interpretation.

Of course, one could argue that the ideas of living and breathing can be relative.

I think living and being alive are two different things.
Don’t you?
I know people who are alive and yet, they never dared or tried or had the chance to live their life to the fullest possible experience.

The sky looks tired this morning.
Just like me.
The reflection in the mirror has aged since this time last year.
Then again, everything has aged since this time last year.

I am reminded of a joke from a famous comedian. Unfortunately, his name escapes me.
However, the joke still remains. But I promise to find him and advise you of his name at the end of this entry.

The comedian was asked by someone, “Would you like to see a picture of me when I was younger?”
The comedian answered, “every picture of you is a picture of you when you were younger.”

I know.
Time has a way of clearing the blurred vision of my past.
And again, I agree that I see things differently.
I feel things differently too.
I swear, it’s like my Old Man used to tell me.
“You’ll understand when you get older.”

Well, I am older now.
At the same time, I relate to a quote I saw the other day.
“Apparently, I am not old enough to know better.”
ah, the morning.
The fogginess and the clouds are strange this morning.
I sipped my coffee on the train ride to work and thought about the chores ahead of me.

I thought about the need to be elsewhere, like, say, far away and down by where the waters are crystal clear and the palm trees sway with a kind resolve and the wind blows across my body as I lay beneath the sun.
God, I wish I was sexy at least once.

No one talks about the different degrees of manhood or the early years when manhood is on the horizon. But I often find myself questioning the past or the times when I was disloyal to my truths and failed to follow my dreams.
No one notices how the younger freedoms of an earlier life is a fleeting thing, which is moving fast and growing farther behind me. No one sees this until it is too late and the past is a far-moving thing that grows more distant without closure or a proper goodbye.

I say this often enough and yet; I have to say this again. I always believed that age and the future is something that happens to old people.
I swore that I would never grow old.
I would never become too serious.
I swore that I would never be weak and that I would never stop. I swore that I would always be shooting like stars in the post-midnight at pre-dawn and wild like I used to be in the pre-millennium afterhours places in SoHo.

There are places which I have never been or seen in real life. However, there are places, like Memphis, or places even the idea of a rainy night in Baltimore that somehow reconnect me to songs from my young adult life.
Music . . .
God, where would I be without you?

I remember the feelings that used to come over me when I heard a song called Sweet Thing from Van Morrison.
I suppose I felt the same way when I heard van Morrison sing Into The Mystic.
This was another good one.
I remember the way I felt when I heard the introduction to the song.
“We were born before the wind.”
I swore that you have to be young and in love to understand lyrics like this.
I was young once.
I was in love too.

You
Above all else and above any other and all other things.
You

I can see you looking back at me.
I can tell.
I can

I know your secrets.
I know why you struggle to look at yourself when seeing the mirrors you pass.