I wonder if we knew that someday, we would look back and say “these were the best days of my life.”
I wonder if we ever thought that we would look back at some of the hardest times and regard them as easy or worthwhile.

I think of it this way:
My worst day with you is still better than my best day without you.
This is true. However, I believe it is best for me to take this one step more.
And so, I will.

This is not to say that my admiration for things has changed. Nor is this to say that I have changed so much that my appreciation for the people from “back in the days,” are any different from when I was young.

I still have love in my heart.
I know I do.
In fairness, I believe that love is the best and most heroic emotion that we have.
Scary. Amazing.
Highs and low, lows.
But nothing is better than the feel of love or love in the heart.
This is the real fountain of youth.

I went back to that idea about how it was as kids. I remember when boyfriends and girlfriends used to write their names on desks and sign this off with the saying 4-EVA. 
I never really had a girlfriend when I was a kid,
at least not longer than a few days or maybe a few weeks at best.

I never carved my initials or left the insignia “4-EVA”.
4-EVA meant “forever!”
I suppose this was a way to say, “Together forever” but such is youth. And such are the mind-blowing concepts of young lust or teenage love. And such is the concept of words like “always” and “forever.”
I think about the word “never” and how I swore that I would never grow old.
But such is life, and such are the details, and such are the truths of our life.
This is the way.
We live, and we learn.
We age and then we wilt.

I used to scribble words in little notebooks. . .

I never thought much about writing, as in to be a writer or anything like that. I never thought that I would look to do this in an exposed setting. I never thought about telling anyone that I write because, out of fear, I never believed that I could write something meaningful enough to be valid.

I admit there was something beautiful about my quiet anonymity. There was something nice about having a secret escape that no one knew about.
Only a few knew.
No one could judge me here.

There are different places where I wish I could have left a time capsule or something behind.
I wish there was a way to let people open this up, like a box from the past or a message from the people who used to be here.

I left scratches and carvings of my initials in trees and park benches.
But who knows if they still stand or exist?

I want to do something like this and one day, I want to find a way to leave a time capsule. Hopefully, someone will open this box and see how we lived or how we thought.

This is a funny thing for me to say.
Or when I say funny, I mean odd or strange but least of all comical.
I have seen the most beautiful things in this world. Some of them were Uptown. Some were up in Harlem.
Some of the most beautiful things were Upstate and some were out east on Long Island. Some of these things were on the cobblestone streets or near Tribeca or by where The Twin Towers used to be.
I have seen beautiful things.
At the same time, I have not travelled much or at least not as much as others.

I suppose I have seen everything when compared to someone who has seen nothing at all.
But to those who see nothing, they will always see nothing, until they open their eyes, of course.

I never know what people remember. I don’t know how memories feel or arise to someone else.
These things are beyond me.
I can’t say I know the feelings within someone else’s heart.
And another thing. . .

I don’t know what other people see or if we see the same things.
I think about this sometimes.

I never thought that I would ever consider moments of my past to be a good time. I certainly never thought that I would look back as I do now and regard certain times as the best days of my youth.
I never thought that I would view the end of my teenage life or the way things that happened when I was far from my usual circle of influence and somehow, I see how time changes our perspective.
And more, I can see why I look back and regard my time on a correctional farm as the best days of my youth.

I have my share of complaints and disagreements with the way things were back then. I equally have a different level of understanding for life. I see things differently now. Take the way I live or the value of how I interact with people, places, and things. This is important to me now. Perhaps more important now than ever before.
And beauty?

In all fairness to the question, I can assure that my answers will be honest.
At least here, where it’s safe for me to be me (with you).
Honestly, my answer is I don’t know how I survived my teenage life.

I don’t know how I made it through my early adulthood or how I moved beyond the younger men’s games. As I think about this, I am not sure why or when these games began or why we sign up for such things. Why do we give way?
I don’t know . . .

The truth is, I still have dreams.
As matter of fact, I have remarkable dreams.
Big ones. Great ones.
I have dreams of softness too.
I have dreams so elaborate and detailed that I can recall saying to myself, “I swear, I hope I can remember this when I wake up.”