"Do you remember what it was like when we were young?" People ask. Innocently enough I guess I do. But I don't like to answer that. All the memories come and go like the mess they were. Some blocked forever, I hope. You see, I remember my parents being consumed by the falsehoods of the prosperity ministry and the insanity that brought. I remember being the oldest of five running the streets and turning wrenches just trying to get through life with a basic footprint of a broken plan in progress. I remember having to pull all I had left from the pieces that the drugs and anxiety took away, as I built something better. I remember the struggling, the people I helped, the people I did not, and the situations I left behind for good. I pulled myself together even if it was one ugly mess without much left. That's what survival is. Keeping your basic needs in line and within reach. You can not allow yourself to get off track and want too much. You have to finish what you started in your head. You have to better yourself at any and all cost. At the end of the day it's you and God that you have to answer to. If you make the wrong decisions in the worst places you could easily go to prison for a long time and your survival narrative quickly changed, or your life ended short. Pull through, try to stay on track and finish what good you started. Realize mistakes are part of the process. Try to be productive to society if your not forced to be a burden to others. Yeah, I remember. Too much sometimes, too much. The moral of the story is, don't let yourself down, and use those dark memories to power your bright future. Learn from your mistakes as much as you can.
