I don't know what to say. I am simply writing because I can. Writing because that is what I know best. Placing together this arrangement of words in the attempt to make sense of this thing we all call life. I hope as you read through these pages, you will begin to explore what your life looks like to you. What your thoughts would look like written down. What your pages would be filled with. What your novel would mean to you. The metaphors and renditions of this book act to speak for me when my lips could not. Acting to speak to the individual's own interpretation. Acting to speak with the intent of being heard. With the turning of each page, I reluctantly release another piece of myself to the universe. Fearful of the power I have allowed these words to have over me. Fearful of the power you posses to read between the lines of my life. Fearful of the power I no longer have over the matters of my mind. However, my fears are dismissible. Incomparable to the significance of the stories I wish to share. Tales of time to be had and lost, self discovery and appreciation, lust and love, independent and societal perspectives, and submission to the unknown. Will you take a walk with me to encounter So This Is Life?