I stumbled upon this blog. I have been going through boxes of papers. What true writer does not have any boxes of papers? I see the old post from 2007 titled "The Impossible Had Just Happened". I am aware the post is vague. At least now it is. I remember when this blog had posts. It was full of my dreams and my hopes. I remember the full concept of what "The Impossible Had Just Happened" was all about back then. I left it as a clue for a night like tonight. Why tonight? Well, anyone that knows me, truly knows me, knows that I leave thoughts unfinished, words unwritten, and projects unfinished. Or do I? Is there a plan? Was there always plan? Why would anyone purposely build a reputation of "always starting something without finishing it". Because I was fighting for my life, that is why. Why was I fighting for my life? Well, you see that is the story for this evening. Yes, yes it is, isn't it? When did this battle start? Was this a conscious or was this an unconscious battle? I have always left clues in my stories, stories of what was, what is, and what is to be. I have always left the clues scattered, here, there, left, right, and I knew when things started going in circles, I knew that I was close to the end. But with every end there is a beginning and each day is a new beginning. Each day is a new start, a new opportunity, a new clue, here and there and everywhere and it is now a journey about putting the clues together. I can't even guarantee I have all the pieces, but the clues are coming together, not by my choice, it just is. Life is no longer waiting for me to heal. Healed or not, things are coming together.
I love writing, I can lose myself in my writing, I can lose myself in my thoughts. But then again, anyone that truly knows me, already knows that. Good night world.
