Thank you for being here, even if you stumbled upon this as an accident. When I was in the 4th or 5th grade at  Wilmot Elementary School [ yes, we were the 'Wilmot Worker's' ] a kid one grade above me in school (who also happened to be fully grown in 6th grade) hit me so unbelievably hard it knocked the wind straight out of me. Funny how clearly we hold on to certain memories. For context, we were practicing the famous and, admittedly quite fun, "Oklahoma" drill, where, at the sound of the whistle, both guys get up from lying on their backs, and the one with the ball attempts to get past the other player, in a one-on-one situation. It was over before it started and it was humiliating. Weeks later, I had made the decision to tell my Father I would be quitting football, inevitably destroying him as a father and what he expected to be my "forever sport". The story ends here, thank the lord, only because as it turned out, I was much better at soccer. Saved the remainder of my childhood. The funniest part of all is, while that was a tough introduction to the team when I was still a relatively soft kid, the real reason I quit is because the helmet itched my head, and I couldn't run as fast as I wanted to in pads. I never had that mentality that a good player needs to achieve succcess with football. There is a part of all of the best football pkayers that wants to go and absolutely deck somebody. That dog mentality, willing to sacrifice one's body and practice twice a day, all Summer long, just to lose every game of the season and get yelled at by coaches. There is something I truly respect about all the guys I grew up with who played football. I thought they were better than me. I thought they were more well-liked than most. I was probably jealous of them. It seemed like an attrarctive quality that girls desired in a guy, and I knew I didn't have an ounce of it in me. What I did have going for me was my natural athleticism shined on the soccer field. A part of my story is what could have become of my soccer career (college, semi-professional, professional) had I taken a different path that was once in front of me.  What I want to attempt is to express the multiple paths I had the option to take at a time in my life where any one that I chose, would in turn, dictate every aspect of how and where I lived my life for the next decade. Would I have become an addict regardless? I will never know. One can only wonder. 

I apologize, and digress. Again, I'm writing this as if I am narrating it as I type. I think writing how one has been raised to naturally write in terms of simple telling of a narrative, and expressing emotion. only seems like one possible think to me. Genuine. Honest. Authentic. Raw. Vulnerable. 

Martin Mull (the quote I began to connect with during the first couple of sentences) is as follows:

“Never ignore that small voice inside you telling you what you’re meant to do”

 Mull is credited with the phrase, which reflects the importance of self-awareness and intuition in life.

 human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

f you're even pretending to read this right now, I want to say thank you - sincerely. I don't exactly advertise my love for words, and how putting the right ones together, and follow a unique formatting that only the most elite of artists are able to achieve in such a way, where the reader is transformed to a universe unlike any that as a human, he had never known