The difference between the beginning and the rest of my life.  I won’t say I’ve said all there is to say about the first half but I hope you have a good understanding of that time by this point. Maybe I’m just getting old,  or maybe I’ve watched How I Met Your Mother too many times but I’ve found a bit of comfort in understanding who I am,  how I got here and more importantly what I’m passing along.

For now though I had to get to this point.  I needed to know.  I had to reflect and I can’t express the value I’ve gotten. Aside from the family it’s truly been one of my more fulfilling endeavors.  I can only hope it continues.

That being said at some point it will not be all about reflection.  As much as I used to feel my opinion had to be heard now not as much. I always feel the need to be expressive that’s true, the difference is now I don’t give a shit who reads it.  I’ve spent a good part of the last couple years being told by people who don’t really know the person I am, that I am the person I was.  And I realize, fuck them.

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