I am a man of many words. At the same time, I find it easier to speak with you here, and without the intrusion of fear or the worries that come with overthinking.
I am a man who can write what I think and get my point across.
(At least I like to think I am.)

It is not hard for me to find the words I have to say. However, and honestly, it can be hard to have my words come out the way I want them to.

I remember back when we were growing up and trying to pretend to be bigger, or cooler than who we were. But I was never cool, or comfortable.
I remember the games we used to play or the things we used to do, or say. I remember the ways we used to act or how we tried to pretend like we knew about life.
I have news about life.
No one knows the hour or the day.
No one knows how they will be when they are faced with their truths. No one knows how to handle loss, until their losses present themselves, and even still, does anybody know how they will react when their dreams present themselves or go away forever?

I am here to witness another sunrise in purgatory. Neither I or you nor anyone else can do anything about the times behind us. Yesterday is gone. Am I right?
Neither you nor I live there anymore.
All we have is right now, and right now is good enough to make the next round a better journey.

Then, of course, I think about the sins of youth. I think about the craziness or the crimes, or the times when it was better to go as fast as possible, or to live wild, and enjoy the adrenaline, or to be mad, like the ones in the madhouse, secured by a layer of insanity.

What does it mean to live?  Or better yet, what does it mean to have a life beyond the typical ideas of, say, a house or a home? Or how about what is life beyond the size of our bedroom, or to have a place to sleep, or something to eat or drink, or as the topic stands, what does it mean to be alive?

I assume my version of real life is mine and your version is yours.
Then again, I assume this is the way life is.
Isn’t it?

Before moving forward into anything else, I think it is only accurate to report that as I begin my day, earlier than the sun, head still heavy from an up and down sleep, body somewhat sore from life’s terms and an empty belly before breakfast, I must recognize that as I make myself ready to walk through another day, there are countless people who are going through their similar, everyday motions, and their everyday routine.

Life does not discriminate.
No, this is something that humans do.

And so, yeah, I did “a thing,” or something happened, or I have some things that have some value. “A thing” is like a figure of speech to me, or maybe this is more like a New York City thing.
I don’t know.
However, I do believe that we are a society and a world defined by the things we say or do. I believe that we are socially defined by the things we have or don’t.
Or we are people who have been changed and our lives are forever altered by the things that happen to us or for us. We are moved by the things around us. Also, we are inspired and motivated by the people around us.

I used to know a life coach who was very special to me. He and I lost touch over the years, but his lessons have stuck with me. They’ve inspired me as well.
I can say a lot about this man, but this entry is not about him.
No, at least not today.
I remember the coach telling me to look for the five best things that you see each day. He told me to do this every day and said “this way, you’ll be looking for the good instead of the bad.”

I can say that I understand this. I can say that it’s too easy to see the ugliness around us. It’s easy to find hate and see anger or rage or pay attention to the fights between us.

If there is one thing that I have learned over the years, I suppose my biggest lesson is about the way time keeps moving. I swear, it’s a trip!
Days keep adding, and before we realize it, yesterday is long gone and so are the chances that came with it.

I can remember people telling me to be aware and pay attention. I was told that life moves pretty fast and yes, I remember thinking how this is something that old people think.
I was told to pay attention to what I want to do. I was told that I had to prepare for my future, only I was too young to realize that the future is important.
However, as I have said before in different journals exposing the ignorance of youth, I will repeat myself and say that I believed the future is something that only happens to old people.
Not me. . .

I am someone who has lived what I could call a normal, everyday, and unusual life. Therefore, what I have seen, heard, lived through, and all that I have experienced is unique and subjective to me.
I know this.
I have my own way and my own style, or like anyone else in this world, I have my own voice and methods of delivery, and the same as you have your view, I have my own views too.
None of this makes me right or better nor does this make me less than or less worldly. No, I am who I am and, in all fairness, it has taken more than five decades, which is a long time, for me to get to where I am now,