collections 5:1

I've been doing this for years. Writing the same old tales in so many places that I can't even remember them anymore. Today's the day that I start fresh, looking at my past through the frosted window of memory... Scratching and pawing at the ice, until I can see a feint picture through the storm outside. There's no more an appropriate time for it... In less than a month, it'll have been ten years. Ten years since it began... the thought, the emotion, and the writing that would come from it. It's a little cliche to say that I have scars on my soul, so let's just say that I haven't let go of what I left behind. I can't help but look back and see a lifetime of experiences in one short decade. So much has happened since then and the world is not even close to what it had been then. Now everyone uses a cell phone, has an ipod, and can rewind or pause live television. Computers can communicate without wires and the country, although jaded by destruction, has moved on and elected the first black president. I've been in the front seat for a lot of the ride and much, enduring pain that I would've never seen on the horizon. But that's just how life is, every moment being a surprise that we could've never expected. Isn't that what makes life good? We've all got our specific comforts that we all depend on for emotion, but the surprises that've moved me the most are those that've burdened me with weight incomprehendable to take in all at once. No story I could tell could match the story of my own life, so I look forward to whatever the next ten years may have in store for me. Standing over a grave in a suit far too big for my narrow shoulders, the kiss of a girl in the front seat of my car before she slips into her home unnoticed, the echo of the night as I cried for something to numb my loneliness, the touch of a woman's hands on my chest for the first time as I offered my virginity, the brief romances in front of foreign films that evolved in a night and were quickly forgotten, the unwanted fingers stretching around my neck as I struggled to breath, the closed fist that connected with my jaw under pressure to empty my pockets, the car that spun out of control in the middle of the busy highway, every cigarette, every drink, every joint, every kiss, every touch, every cut, scrape, bruise, slur, love harmony death destruction terrorism americasuffocationbrothergirlfriendmolestationemohipstertearswhiskeypubertyomotherhuman
...Fathers.
So today we wait for tomorrow, instead of telling old stories and reliving the worst moments of our life and the best moments that we'll never have again. Today we will look ahead and embody the ambition left by all those who we left behind- that I left behind. We can peer back as they cheer on passionately or we can bring their dreams and my own to fruition. Once upon a time, I sat in a church with my family crying on all sides of me while bit my lip and held back my tears.
I'm won't hold back anything anymore.