All Things Considered

She stuck with me after I came back. I don't really want to get into the accident.  It's pretty self-explanatory.  I was a kid thankfully, so I'm not cursed with having the memory I do now.  Things changed, I changed, that's just how something like that works. When I came back, Megan was still with me.  Our relationship was still only what could be expected of kids in 1st grade, hell we were like 7 years old so I hope you're taking my use of "relationship" and "romance" with the proper age appropriate grain of salt.  Anyway. At least as far as I could see, nothing had changed between us.  During school, I was allowed to have one person accompany me through the halls, I was given actual permission to have Megan with me for 7 hours a day.  She used to push me around school while I held our books. I contend that even to this day, that simple act is one of the most intimate connections I've ever experienced with another human.

I. Megan Before I considered any of this on my car ride to work this morning, I hadn't actually noticed just how much you forget.  People always say their first legitimate memory is from the age of 3 or 4, a brief glimpse frozen in time forever. Mine doesn't occur until the age of 5 (maybe)? Pre-school, specifically. Maybe that in itself says a lot about who I am, but that's a discussion for another time. I specifically remember being seated in a circle of other kids in class, myself flanked on both sides by two girls with the names of Sharlene and Megan. I don't recall why, I know only that Megan and I would become friends. When my father still lived in PA at this time, we lived in the upstairs of Megan's Aunt's garage. Small kitchen, small living room, small bathroom, single small bedroom. Chelsea and I shared a bed as kids, my father slept out on the couch.  Dad drove truck at the time and was split from my mother, so we weren't exactly strapped wit...

So what's the plan here. First and foremost, I want to take a proper trip down Memory Lane (or at least some of it).  I've tried to understand some things about myself and my past, I'm hoping putting pencil to paper will help further that goal. The first thing I want to address is love. What it is, what it's meant to me, how I've handled it, and ultimately what or if I plan to do with it.  I only really know of one way to tell a story, so let's just go back to the beginning.

Prologue. I'm already weighing the importance of a good start. Already dissecting each word and sentence before putting it here forever. I came here to write about something very important to me, and yet my first task will be putting together an acceptable introduction. I suppose I could read some books, see how other "proper" writers begin their works. But I already know what would happen. I'd analyze and try to understand the "meta" of writing, to see the most common and efficient way to do things. I'd lose myself and with it the entire reason I'm here. Let's do this instead. Let me apologize in advance. I've only ever written as a hobby, only whatever was required for some class on some whatever assignment. I don't read nearly enough to have a genuine understanding of writing styles or powerful techniques. I don't think of being clever when I write, only trying to put thought into words.  I accept in advance that my story contai...