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.