Starving for truth...

I was still stewing about that guy on my way out of the office.

Now, you have to realize something about me: I analyze everything to death. I will pick things apart for days, if not weeks, until I get to a conclusion. This is standard V behavior, something that drives most people nuts when I start going into it, part of the reason why I'm accused of being too intense.

So, if I mentally rehash and review the events of the weekend for the next three weeks, that's pretty normal.

Fortunately, I hit a decent mental plateau as I was driving.

A song came on the radio, a hit during late 2000, early 2001, reminding me of those years, of when I tried so hard to destroy myself, to wreck my life and health beyond redemption.

Suddenly, it didn't matter. What he did or did not do, how things panned out the next day. It didn't matter. It was a drop of water in my river, swallowed up because I am so much more, so much stronger, than I allow myself to be.

And I keep forgetting that.

I get tangled up in the moment, not enough to truly let go and give into the present, but enough of my thoughts get wrapped around these little things that I lose sight of who I am and what I've had to do to become it, and how much better I'm going to get over the years.

I hear so often of people looking back in time and saying, "Those were the best years of my life."

I've never thought that. If I ever get to that point, I might as well check out of here. Every day, each coming year, is full of potential, is waiting for you to get there and make the most of it, however you define it.

The best years of my life have yet to happen, and I've had some pretty damn good years.

And now I need to go download my pictures from the last week so I can put them up on here so we have images to go with our "show and tell" hour.