So far I have written 2,524 words for my memoir.

Today, I have written 2,138 of them.

Tomorrow, I do not know how much I will write.

What I do know, is that the feeling of using my words again is inexplicably freeing.

So the best thing I can do, is to share these words. Or at least part of them.

       "The beginning is often the hardest part; to take a blank sheet and fill it, to step out onto the trail, to dive headfirst into the chilly waters. The beginning is often the part that when looked back upon, was harmless and could be conquered many times again. That is, you decide it can be conquered a million and one more times when you become faced with another ominous door that signifies the next step.

                On the other hand, the end could often be seen as the hardest part; the closing of the book, the last loaf of Grandma’s homemade bread, the graduation into adulthood. It’s the black abyss of life yet unexplored, stretching in front of you until you can feel the bile rising in the back of your throat as you stare blankly into the expanse. Out there, hundreds of not only new beginnings but new endings await. Each nestled like Russian dolls, one inside another, some that overlap and others that lead you off the path and onto an unexpected detour.

                However, I view both with the same distaste. In all reality, both are hard, because they are not solid. They are fluid in how they happen, where, when, who what and how they come about. Sometimes they are wrapped in one glittery package, where other times there is a long stretch in the maze until you find another light. Sometimes, they happen without you even noticing.

                So where does that bring me? Where does that bring us in the fruitless endeavor to find enlightenment in a world so full of shadows?

                I cannot tell you where the beginning of my struggle with anxiety began, nor where I began to enjoy gardening. I cannot tell you when I ended friendships based off of the simple fact that we were no longer who we used to be. I cannot show you the exact moment when I fell in love, fell into despair, fell into the pool of expression that came through the escape of my words, and my camera.

                One thing is to be certain, and I guess that may be where it is best fit to start.

                I was born May 6^th, 1992.

                I do not know when I will die.

                But what I do know is that in between, I am living."