In the beginning...

I’ve tried time again to create some narrative of the adventures and misadventures that have directed my life. But time and again once my pen hits the paper, my fingers the keys, my mind comes not to silence but to static. I try to find linearity in life but I’ve come to learn with more and more difficulty that life is not linear, but full of loops and dead ends. A tangle of hair that only the most diligent brush could untangle and create something beautiful from. Yet for some reason my conscience prods at the back of my eyes, out of desperation or spite, and taunts me with my history. It is crying to be told. And so today I tell my story.

This a story about coming of age. This is a story about the straw that broke the camel’s back. A story about water rising and the fear we may drown. This is a story of rebirth. This is my story. But most of all, this is a story about you. You, who have shared with me, the feeling of loss, of abandonment, abuse or neglect. You, who were lost, but found your way North. This is a story of what it means to be human, to not just survive, but to live.