Ah, youth. Or should I say rebellious youth?
Or maybe I should call this my crazy youth or the wild times, or wild as ever, at least they were to me, or so they seemed.
I was young once. This might have been a long time ago or another lifetime. Or maybe this was another person or, to me, I sometimes view my youth as if it were a movie that played in a strange movie house. I was like a patron to the theater and living in a neighborhood that seemed as if it were in a storybook somewhere.

I have been searching for something for so long. This is an answer and a solution. But also, I have been searching for a remedy. I have been looking for a response to an otherwise sense of being.
I want something “more.”
I want something better.
I want to feel . . .
This is more than a great escape, by the way. This is more than a feeling of momentary bliss or an answer to an unbalanced life or imperfect chemistry.
I mention both the imbalance and imperfection of our chemistry with a great purpose. However, as a person who identifies with different challenges that range from depression to anxiety, I realize that I am no different nor am I as challenged as certain diagnosis or professional labels have led me to believe.