This is written as somewhat of a mission statement.
So, I will understand if you choose to abort this now.
Then again, this is not your mission.
Not by any means.
So in fairness . . .
Your participation is not necessary.

I offer this as a personal interference to which I am intercepting the off-putting ideas of self-doubt.
Therefore, do not give up.
If the word never is real then so is forever.

This is to you, Ma . . .

I know . . .
. . . it’s been a while.
it’s been even longer since we walked or talked
or had the chance to sit and eat.

Mom.
No one knows what it’s like.
Or no, I assume that no one could know what it was like for me, or for you
But we do.

We know of course because we both lived through what we lived through.
And such is life, in another lifetime.
And though he changed the scenery and Act 1 became Act 2 and so on, time will always be the undefeated winner because time waits for no one . . .
“. . . it passes you by.”

The funny thing is I don’t miss much about my so-called yesterdays.
Least of all, I do not miss the times or the memories that no longer seem to benefit me.
So much has happened.
But yesterday is yesterday.

I am so far removed from who I was, regardless of how close I’d like to be
Or maybe it would be better to say there are parts of my past which seemed to have happened in another lifetime.

And suddenly, I am someone else and jettisoned to someplace warm, like say,
away from all the useless small talk and the nonsense that takes place in our everyday journey.
I have this dream.
That’s all.
It’s nothing huge or crazy.
This is more simple than it seems.
I swear it is.

This is from the heart, of course.
I swear that all of this is true and that all of this is unfiltered.
I have to do this, by the way.
I have to let this out, otherwise, emotions can spoil and my thoughts can turn against me.

I say all of this without thinking, as if to open the gates and let my thoughts run like hungry dogs who’ve been pent up for way too long.
And same as the dogs, I need to eat too.

I do not suppose that anyone hopes to find the obstacles ahead of them.
Yet, we all have them.
Obstacles, I mean.

I suppose if we could have it easy, then we would choose to have it easy and thus, none of us would struggle.
No one would hurt.
No one would experience the lows or fall into the pitfalls that bring us to our knees.
No.

This was written to you in pieces.
I kept notes of my thoughts throughout the night and compiled them together after hours of up and down, and sleepless trips to the bathroom.
I suppose there could be different meanings behind this.
For example, snow is falling at the moment.
I like this.
Maybe the snowfall is less of a sign. Or maybe this is only a sign to me.
Maybe I think about the way snow can cause two people to be closer.
Or perhaps the snow is a simple thing and nothing more than happenstance. Or better yet, I suppose we make this simple enough to all this the first snowfall of the New year.

Why complicate things?
Or overcompensate?
Let the process be what the process will be.
But this is what scares me.

Before I go onward, I recognize that I am and that I will forever be a fan.
I am a fan of different things. But more, I am a fan of things that make me think or feel. I am a fan of things that drive me to be unafraid to change or walk against the grain. I am a fan of anything that makes me move or causes me to choose and find my own path.

Before I move farther with this, I have to say that yes, I am a fan.
Music. . .