At some point, I realized that there was nothing left to talk about. After all, I had planned my speech more times than I could count. I practiced my goodbyes. I rehearsed what I’d say over and over again.
The terms of our conditions change according to the terms of our needs; thus, at some point, I came to the realization that what I had was not what I needed. Or, more importantly, what I had was not what I wanted either. So, then what?

I have offered this in other journals but with recent news and in the face of today’s current events, it would appear that now, as a person who cares deeply, is a good time to talk about the process of loss.
Keep in mind that there is never a good time to talk about this. I get it! But life is out there and life is always happening. Therefore, there is no right time. There is only now.

It is personal to me and often uncomfortable to write about my past. I say this because in my efforts to be honest and forthcoming or helpful and revealing, I have found that honesty can backfire when it comes to a person’s mental health.
It is safe to say that we live in a world of judgment. It is also safe to say that rather than honoring a person for their personal triumphs to overcome, we have become a society that notes the problem more than the triumph. 

I have a memory. Albeit small but still, I have a memory nonetheless. I was sitting in the passenger seat of a work truck. We were driving somewhere down 2nd Avenue during midday in New York City. I was 16 years-old at the time. My hair was long and the summer was hot. I was in the middle of so many different things and at the same time, I was in the middle of nowhere. I had so many questions but I was looking for the answer in all the wrong places.

Art does not always pay very well. Or better yet, most times, art does not pay at all. At least not as far as money is concerned. I’ve been to street fairs where people sell their paintings, which are phenomenal; yet, no one knows the artist. In which case, art can be thankless.
Art can be hopeless and yet, this is when art is at its best. I say this because this is when art is at its truest. To hell with the critics and the judges. This is why I write. This is why I come here. I am here every morning before the sun comes up.

I come here because this is part of my life now. I no longer write because “I want” to be a writer. No, I write because this is who I am. This is my beauty which is personal, introspective, intimate and personal to me.

The obvious truth is words have meaning. Of course they do. This is why we use them. We use words to convey a thought or express a feeling. We use words to communicate and interact.
Words have meaning.
I agree. But what’s in a word?
I think this is an interesting question.

They say that when one door closes, another opens.  People will also say, “It can’t rain forever” and especially when we talk about heartbreak or heartache; when you find yourself at the bottom of an outcome, there is no hope. All we see is what we feel and it hurts.
Life is not without pain nor is love without trials. It is clear though, at least to me, that it is pointless to deny our feelings. Instead, we can own them. We can declare them and process them so that eventually, we can live with them.

I used to be afraid. . .
I was afraid all the time. If I’m being honest, I was afraid of everything, which is literally crippling. And I laugh when people tell me that they’re not scared. I laugh when people say, “Who cares what they think” and yet, they go on and on about what other people say. But as for me, I was afraid that someone might not like me. I was afraid to be picked last. I was afraid that I wasn’t good enough. I was afraid of shame and humiliation. I was afraid to be left out and afraid to be involved because what happens if I’m involved and I fail?
I used to be afraid of being “Found Out,” as if I were an imposter in a professional’s uniform and one day, in front of everyone, the curtains would pull back and there I’d be: Exposed!

Back in the short period of my life when I was a Cub Scout, which was only about a month or two, I was told a quote, which I believe is sincerely underused. I was told, “Be prepared.”
This is the scout motto. According to Scouting for Boys, this means “You are always in a state of readiness in mind and body to do your duty.”

Be prepared in mind, body and soul. I say this is brilliant. I say this simple quote is, above all, the most useful suggestion in our life. This goes beyond my quick stint in Cub Scouts. This lesson goes beyond the separations of boys or girls or any kind of identity.
The idea to “Be prepared” fits all.