Seemingly and intensely alone on a Thursday night, I came to wonder how I got here, and thought negatively of the consequences that brought me into this lonely state of mind, in which I can relate to, and be understood by nobody.  And then I realize that I don’t wonder; I know.  I always know.  And when I forget, something reminds me.  And when something reminds me, I’m back there in that room, on that evening, that fall, and I can’t see out the frosted glass window which hangs above me like a Halloween full moon.

I will always know.

And I always need to remember to be grateful; for the good, and the bad, and how the bad has dictated, influenced, inspired, strengthened, enhanced, and made worthy, all of the good.  I must always be grateful and never look down at that which God, should he exist, has handed to me.  I must always, always, always be grateful.  For without my stories, there would be none of my words. And I can never, ever, ever forget that.


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