I would like to believe that I would never forget and that above all, I will always remember who I am and where I come from. I would like to believe that I will never forget what it took me to get to this point, which has nothing to do with success, least of all a monetary number or a bank account. This has nothing to do with where I live or the type of car that I drive. This has nothing to do with a portfolio or net worth because I have learned that money can lose its value. Fame is fleeting, which is not to say that I am famous or anything like that. But popularity is only plastic. The rest of the world is see-through but if I am to be held to the light, I want to be more than what appears to the eye.

I am sure we all agree that awareness comes in time. I am also sure that awareness comes in stages. For example, I was more aware of my surroundings when I was younger. I was more aware of fashion and flash and glory. I was a younger person in search of thrill and thrill-seeking things, like, how fast can I go or how can I push my adrenaline to the highest peak.
Now I am less aware of things that divide the crowds or the status of social popularity which at one point was something that mattered to me. But simply, the older I become, the more I find myself completely unaware of new technology or how to use it. The more I advance, the more I move away from unimportant ideas that crippled me in the past.

I was standing outside of my hotel room in the early hours of the morning. My body was on New York time but my location was Los Angeles, California. This was one of my first trips out to L.A. which was more like a dream to me. I was partly awake because my body was unsure about this thing they call time zones. I was partly up because I was excited to be where I was and partly so that I could call in to one of my Sunday morning empowerment groups.

After losing a considerable amount of weight, I loaded up a backpack with the same amount of weight that I lost. Then put this on my back. I walked around for a while and felt the weight that I had lost. I did this to realize how much weight was gone and after removing the backpack, I realized how much lighter I felt. 
Weight has always interested me. I know how much a pound weighs. I know how much ten pounds weigh and twenty and so on. I understand that my concept of weight differs because my strength and depth of feeling is unique to me. I don’t know what ten pounds feels like to anyone else. I only know what this feels like to me.
I know that holding something that is lightweight can eventually become heavy. I also understand the process of accumulation. I know that one thing can become two and two becomes four; therefore, before we know it, we find ourselves carrying way too much. 

I am watching the sunrise from my window (again).
The colors of orange and purple amaze me at times like this. The clouds mix in and take the different colors under its belly. There are leaves on the ground and autumn has taken most of the foliage. But still, the remnants of colored leaves are not all lost. At least, not yet.

There was an early morning gathering at one of the bagel places near my home. I noticed them every Sunday morning and each week, a small group of people chose to meet up at an early hour, just to connect, just to talk, or better yet, maybe they met up to hit the reset button. Come Monday, they were ready to deal with the week and all that comes with it.

I am sitting on an outbound bus with the sun going down. The moon arrived early for its shift today and across the Hudson, which is between me and the City, I can see the spires of tall New York City buildings, pushing their needles into the palms of the sunset.
I am older now but the romance has not left me. Not at all. I still feel the same way and to me, she is just as beautiful—or better yet, she is more beautiful now and beautiful as ever.
My feelings towards her are still as impactful as when I was young and wild. This place has seen me through decades of changes. She is always there for me, regardless of my faults or past misgivings. Besides, she knows my truths, which I suppose was something that used to frighten me.
I have seen her from the Eastside and the Westside and from the Downtown side on cobblestone streets, which still exist. I’ve been with her from the SoHo side, to the Uptown side, from the parks, and to the Avenues with alphabets. She is still very real to me; my City.

There are different phrases for when someone “Goes away,” to dry out or clean up. One phrase that I hear is, “He went to the farm,” which is interesting to me because in my case, I was literally on a farm for 11 months. But I get it. There will always be slang terms. There will always be an attachment to opinions and connections to stigma. I understand that anonymity is not always anonymous and that people talk to keep the rumor factories alive.
To be clear, I was in three different treatment facilities. I was in two of them twice. And I say this without shame. I offer this without regret and openly identify myself as a person who needed help. But this is more about people and our relationships than it is about rehabs and recovery. This is more about the connections we make and the people we meet. This is about what people share with each other when it seems like the entire world is about to fall apart. 
That’s what this is about.