How many times have you found yourself thinking about the past? I am guilty of doing it often. We are all a collection of stories, some that we do not tell. The reason why we don’t varies some, depending upon the story. Some we are ashamed of, some we think are going to be boring to the world around us.
I am finding out that sometimes those stories are more interesting than we realize. I try to be open about my history and tell my stories, but some of them do not really sit on the mind as something that I need to tell. Yet, each of them are a part of who I am. I am a unique individual who has seen some of the darkness that lives in the heart of man. I am a survivor who has learned to make do with what I have. And I am a woman who has seen both good and bad, and came through it ready to try to tell my stories. I don’t know if I will ever be able to write all of the stories of a life survived, or even if I should. Not all of my mistakes are ones that any one would learn from… Even me. Still for now, I will attempt to continue to dribble my story in small gushes to this blog, and to my poetry. Perhaps my journey will aid those who stumble across my words.