As one looks at this picture, they can't tell whether the road is beginning or if it's ending; you just happen too see a road and all the beauty surrounding said road. IF there were ever a time to be more honest, the time is now, if there were ever a time to be more alive the time is now.

It seems as if I find my writing voice when I'm sad or on a journey of some sorts and within these moments of uncertainty, these moments of "distress" I search for a road both leading out and leading in, if that makes sense.

During the course of my ever so brief life, people have always said to me that I've missed my calling, whether to be an athlete, an actor, a singer, or the owner of my own business. "We would pay to see you do x,y,z." It's almost laughable to listen to when it takes place because I can never see what they see or feel what they feel towards me when I... when I simply look into the mirror.

My road isn't a unique one, I was born into this world and I've had to figure it out, I've had to find a way to survive, however, in the process, I've been afforded opportunities others may never get a chance to live. The question is where do these roads lead, toward a new path or back to places we've been to before in life.

I stood for a moment, looking at where we'd traveled from to where we stood, at the time of this picture, and I couldn't figure out where the end and beginning were and that prompted me to think about life and in thinking about life, I thought about something I'd written on a Post It Note over a year ago:

"The road had a beginning

And an end

It was the journey in between

That was a trip..."

My mind tricks me so often, much as my sight did on this particular day. The road we were on was circular, there were only two ways onto the road and the same two ways out but the journey, the journey from one end to the other was truly the key to the trip.