How many times have I thought about this place, considered its purpose, its import to me, and to you. How many sentences I’ve started, how many topics touched on. How many more have I thought of, rolled around in my mind only to let them dissipate like a clearing fog. There are so many things I want to share, but my temperament and aptitude prohibit me from offering anything less than what I deem perfect, despite the fact that when I finally do, it is. This is a journal, yet one that has been cultivated, curated, and curtailed to fit an ideal, or at least to be pushed in a direction. Yet it is still just a journal, and my beliefs, my ideals and values bleed into every word published. It is my journal.