When I was living on the coast, anything was possible. I believe in everything and tried most things, certain I could have and do whatever I wanted. Okay, I was like that when I first moved to the coast. That was almost three years ago. Time passed, and a history was built and I let my faults and mistakes shorten my own expectations for myself. I became stunted. I couldn’t figure out how to do better, simply because so many people outwardly expected me to fail. Well at least that was the impression I got. And for some reason I’m going to go ahead and guess I’m not the only person who’s ever felt this way. In the midst of my mistakes and making life altering decisions (also known as living life) I lost the voice in my head. And I don’t mean another personality, I mean my voice. The person in me who knows what I think and what I want. I’d lost her. And I still don’t know exactly where she is. But the voice is becoming a little less soft. Now that I’m in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people who throw around racial slurs the same way I use profanity– like it’s no big deal. I have to wonder if anything really is possible. Even now, in a small town, with not a lot of access to various things, can anything still happen? I’m going go ahead and think that, because thinking otherwise just might kill me. I’m going to follow my path, and not let the voices of others stunt my dreams. With that said, I guess the skys the limit.