In the past few weeks I have knuckled down and focused on my autobiography; part of me wants to post everything, but I have realised that it is not the right time for neither you, them nor me.
What I found is that writing from the start is more difficult than writing at peaks of memory or inspiration from a past moment. I have many autobiography excerpts saved in different documents, but I have finally compiled an unedited starting point…
Why start at the beginning? That is when everything is still fine and dandy, or at least one thinks so. I don’t think one is supposed to remember being an infant, as it must be quite a disturbing time in one’s life, completely helpless and at the mercy of people that are supposed to have your best interests at heart.
I am unsure of my earliest memory, there’s a blur of pictures but nothing concrete, yet. Snippets have been fading in and out of my consciousness, but my self-defense mechanisms are still in place. All that I am sure of at this point that between the ages of 2 and 4 something caused me to completely block off those years of my life, which I believe is a blessing in disguise.
Since this Autobiography starting point I have penned family personality traits and some background and need-to-knows. I have also touched on a few reference points that tweak the pull to the canyon with an intense reliving of the despair of that circumstance and emotion. I know there will be many a canyon into which my heart and soul shall fall, but I won’t wander in any canyon for long, I know that God’s got me.