I don’t know what to write, at the moment, but that’s never really been an issue. I normally just have to start down a path and, eventually, something shakes loose. I will say this: I’m really glad that I have nurtured my ability to communicate, in this form. I’ve come across a lot of brilliant minds that have a lot of trouble sharing their thoughts, when their thoughts are the only things occupying this blank canvas. I’ve always enjoyed reading but I’m not even sure as to what made me start drafting. It has always just felt…smooth. I wasn’t always skilled at the production aspect of creative writing, but I have been very fortunate to be able to find the words that I need, in order to express the series of interwoven thoughts that paint the picture of where I want to take readers. I’m pretty sure that, as I progress as a writer, I will look back on these entries and see so many flaws that it will embarrass me to think that I ever viewed these posts as “decent”. For now, however, I like ’em. I have received a few messages from people in different walks of life. Some I had/have a relationship with, and some I did not. All of whom have expressed how much they’ve enjoyed the things that I have written, as well as the manner in which they have been communicated. I truly appreciate it. I never expected anyone to ever like what I write. I never even thought that I would ever let anyone see the things that I decided to write about. I was a shy kid who knew that he had many talents but was afraid to be made fun of, because those talents may not make me “cool”. I’ve never been “cool”, though. With that being said, I’m not sure what I was attempting to hold on to. My entire life has been me, standing on the opposite side of what people think is culturally relevant, and it used to bother me. I thought that it was because I was poor. Then I thought that it was because I wasn’t in the same shape as other folks. Hair, height, affiliations…I looked into it all. You know, just to check it off of the list. Gradually, I came to realize that none of that stuff even mattered. In fact, I started to realize that by embracing myself and being comfortable with the person that I know that I am, deep down inside, I don’t even need to be viewed as anything. I’ve been by myself and I will be by myself. I don’t need to be a “part of something” to validate how I feel about who I am. So, I write. And I do plenty of other things. I also DON’T do certain things. Do I think that I am cool , as a result of it all? Meh, not really. That’s for you to decide. But does it even really matter?