During my days of writing, I found myself filled with thoughts and moods and desires flowing from my pessimistic self. While the words came to me instantly, there was uneasiness about them. In my inability to suppress this uneasiness, it became clear that a state of flux was happening to me for some specific reason all over again.

Beginning somewhere in my ancestry, it has followed the bloodline all the way down. Genetics, I suppose, unavoidable genetics. My ancestry holds the answers to questions I will never think to ask. I am the caboose, and the power of the conflict has been my steam. Perhaps my birth was saved for last to absorb the family spills, but my personal growth has been born out of the reflections of a child. Some say itʼs all in my mind, and after many years of discussion with a mental trainer, I now concur.

Memories, as you might expect, are the nucleus of our existence, and mine are based on the unintended unsuspecting events of family and the consequences of their actions. This is a story of mood and temperament, suspicion and pain, familial homophobia, coping and forgiveness. Consequently, this is a recounting of typical and atypical behaviors under specific circumstances and how their effects ultimately brought my obscurity to light.

Thoughts, moods, and temperaments are like breath. Normally a naturally occurring phenomenon, each is evidence of the mindʼs handiwork. Expressive and powerful, often running haywire, flawlessly cosmic, comedic by nature or not—the greatest creation is the mind as it controls senses that are the connection of the body and the life of the soul.

As my pace accelerated, my mindʼs eye began to see things…in darkness and in a different light. What was once breathtaking heightened to exhilaration, and then exhaustion became senselessness and finally hopelessness. Under my distorted mental command I began to change, and in my elation, poetry began to swirl unrestrained, driven by my vacillating moodiness and the high spirits of each occurring moment.

They say that everyone has a book inside of them, and mine, journal-like in style, is a collection born at conception that lay dormant for forty-eight years. The simple union of a man and woman brought the circumstances and the results I now inscribe. And they, the very circumstances that have given me pause, have driven my enthusiasm. I have written this book under the powerful force of two minds and in doing so I have endured all of the joy and all of the joylessness my life has ever known.

I do not believe my cast of characters represents anything more than earthly souls yearning, searching, and striving for their desires, battling their demons, and amending their existence to stay alive, but in doing so, each has affected the lives of the others.