In a series of events that I'm sure I will never completely understand, nor do I really wish to understand, I've found myself alive and wishing to share with you what this means to me.. or maybe what it doesn't mean, of this difference I am not yet sure. As I squint at this computer screen, settled uncomfortably in a plastic green lawn chair in my semblance of a back yard that is really a large expanse of grass next to a busy street, I'm finding myself spending too much brainpower deciding which word to type next. This picture represents me, and the sometimes the only thing I know to be true in this world -- that I am real, and alive; I breath air, sip coffee when it is still much too hot, and know nothing about what I am doing here.
That being said, I'll leave you with some identifying qualities about myself that also prove to be true for the time being. I am 21 years of age, I live in Minneapolis, MN, I don't do my laundry enough, my sister is my best friend. I'm originally from the UP of Michigan, transplanted here about a year and a half ago. Passion is a word that holds too much meaning to me but rarely enough action. I don't believe in coincidences. I am in love with the idea of being what I am not but love myself enough that the middle ground between these two parallels materializes in my life as constant gratitude nagged by an underlying sense of self-pity. There are things in my life that will never change -- yellow is my favorite color, and giraffes are my favorite animal. As I share my experience, strength, and hope in the AA meetings I attend I'll finish this introductory post the same way I finish at meetings.. I'm done now, thanks for listening, pass.
