Then again, of course, this is the real world. And of course, no one wants to talk about the obvious problems. No one wants to talk about the elephant in the room. No one wants to mention the unfortunate truths, or perhaps, maybe if we turn our heads or avert our eyes, maybe the truth can go away. I’d like this idea too, if it worked, or if it were true.

Nothing goes away.
Nothing stops, just because we don’t like it or if we are scared or sad. Although we can look to hide from the truths, the fact is, this is life and no one gets out alive.
Right?

There is a big world out there, far beyond what we see or what we think. There is so much more than what we see on the surface.
There are people who come from everywhere and then there are people of different color, different backgrounds, and some people will speak different languages.
People will come from different places, or even locally, someone who comes from the town next to you, although close in proximity, they still grew up with a different culture, a different way of talking, at least to some regard.

I often think about the kids from the neighborhood and how we talked or the things that we said. I think about our made up words, that were common, yet, they meant something different to us.
Go to the next town over, and even though the geography is literally blocks away from me, or us, sayings are different, schools were different, and language can be different and so can our terms of use, which can alter from one place to another.

I am up before the sun. I suppose this is not so unusual for me. However, I am awake, especially early today and waiting on the morning’s first light to come from the east.
I can hear the wind blowing through the palm trees outside of my temporary stay near the beach.
I have come here with a purpose.
I have come here to tell my sins to the sea and to feel the redemption of my feet in the sands.

I need this now, the Atlantic is by my side, the memories of times that went by, the feelings of love, the ideas that took place as I walked down this very same beach, years back when Mom was still alive.
So much has changed since then. I suppose this is what we always say when we look back at the way things were, ten years ago.

I should tell you that this journal is no different from any of the journals or notes that I have written to you. Each one is inspired by some kind of life-changing event or an eye-opening moment. And yes, this journal is no different.
There is a reason for my thoughts and my ideas. And, of course, my thoughts and my reasons for reaching out to you like this are very dear to me. This is all dear to me, even if they are not dear to anyone else, including you.

Safe to say that we might need to remove ourselves from the equation to understand the math of what’s going on. Safe to say that hindsight is not aways kind, and yes, it is sufficient to say that awareness takes time. Even still, no matter how aware we are, awareness has more than one side of the pill to swallow.
There is always the obvious side of awareness, which are the facts that open up in plain sight. Knowing is not the same as feeling or believing. Therefore, the other side of the pill is the acceptance side, which is the emotional side, and this is where the struggle begins.

Sometimes, it’s enough to stand up on your own two feet. And sometimes, it’s enough to take a walk and get away for a while, just to see the world from a different point of view.
I think it’s important to change our perspective and update our thinking so we can grow.

I can think of the times when I was walking around in New York City, trying hard to pull off my best performance or to act like I was cool, or to act like nothing was wrong, or to act like my pocket was filled with money. Meanwhile, I was down to my last twenty.
God, the male ego is so fragile, at least mine was.

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?