I can tell you what I’ve been through

What I go through

How I feel about it

I can describe the color and shape of every bush

The way the wind blows

How the sun feels on my skin

What the sound of waves provokes in me

What the desert tells me when no one else is listening

I can tell you all about the things I share with no one

I could offer you these pieces of sand about me and the simplicity beyond the complexity behind me

I can tell you how much I smoke

How little I drink

Who I read and why

I can tell you about my family, the role I play, the disappointments and achievements

I can tell you all of my predicaments

I can tell you about my REM dreams and my visions

I could give you multiple daily updates and stories

Write a novel or series of all the things that have happened to me

Things I’ve caused to happen unintentionally and exactly every time I got my way and how

I could give you names, dates, prices, and costs

I could tell you about everything except the things I can’t remember

And the most interesting part is that the truth about what it’s like to be me is hidden in those forgotten moments

Moments I surrendered to time as quickly as I could

While I grasp only the most pleasant things because I so desperately want those moments to have more significance.