The Type

It has been almost two years since I started writing this blog.

In the whole spectrum of things, two years is but a blip on the radar. But, when I really sit down and think about it, these past two years for me could easily be translated into a lifetime. I honestly cannot believe the amount of changes that I have gone through, the experiences that I involved myself in, and the pure, raw emotions that I have subjected myself too. The person I am today is almost a 360 degree difference from the person I was then. And, if you have been following me all along, you've read through some of these different things, as I am no stranger to publicizing my feelings.

When I sit down and think about why I wanted to start writing this blog, I find myself amidst conflicting feelings of laughing until I cry,  or skipping the laughing part altogether and heading straight into crying. If you are reading this blog and you have yet to read my pilot blog posting, "Conceptual Love" - dumb name.. I'm aware - I encourage you to do so before you read this one any further. Obviously, my first posting was about love, as love is fickle and I wanted to name my blog "The Fickle Truth". It was fitting. But, I would be painstakingly lying if I didn't tell you the whole reason of writing that blog. So, here goes.

I wrote the blog as sort of a confession letter to tell someone that I was falling in love with him (and, yes, I mean "him" - I'm gay. Get over it! =P). And then I posted that link to every social site that I have ever owned in hopes that he would somehow catch wind of it, read it, realize his long lost love for me and come barreling into my open arms with undeniable happiness.

Well, that never happened. He read it, asked me who I was talking about, and because I hadn't developed those lovely set of balls that I carry today, I just said "someone". And, we never spoke of it again.

Thank God.

This boy that I was so much in love with turned out to be a certifiable sociopath that shoved me into the greatest bout of depression, thus far. Imagine if we actually started dating! We would probably have formed the most destructive co-dependent relationship towards each other and we both would have been screwed.

Since then, I have tried immersing myself into other relationships, all with the most dismal results. I've done the one night stand thing and I've done the whole trying to turn a friendship into a relationship thing. But, over the last two years, I have never gained that one thing I've wanted most: a bonafide, monogamous relationship.

This past week, my newfound friend Keegan asked me what my type of person was.  And while I could easily answer that I choose to look for the emo, punk rock kid that is emotionally crippled, I just told him that I don't know. Because, while I can get my sexual kicks from someone that is broken and that I can try fixing, that isn't someone I can spend my life with. So, I honestly didn't really know.

I've heard it said that while sex is a very big deal, it's like that is the easy part of any relationship. Yes, it's awkward and threatening and thrilling, but it pails in comparison to giving your heart to somebody. That's the real scary part.

And I couldn't agree more.

So, here I find myself questioning the "type" of person that I can see myself with and the person that I can give my heart to and not expect it to be handed back. And here is what I have come up.

First and foremost, I want a guy that I can be physically, emotionally, and intellectually connected with. I want a guy, who from the moment I meet him and look into those big, beautiful eyes, I will know that we will be with each other till the day we die. I want a guy who doesn't hide behind technology and isn't afraid of having a real conversation with me, face-to-face. I want a guy who doesn't just want to throw me against the wall and have his way with me after the first date, or the second, or the third. And when we finally decide to have sex, I want it to mean something and I want to not have to worry about waking up the next morning with a text saying thanks for the great lay and that "I'll call you sometime", which actually means, "I've had my way with you and now I'm done with you". I want a guy who, when I decide to show him every part of my body, I won't have to worry about him cringing because I have scars or a little extra flab. I want a guy who will be there for me when I need him most and will know that I need him even if I don't explicitly say I do. I want a guy who understands the value of just doing nothing - of sitting there, wrapped up in a blanket, cuddling, not worrying about what the rest of the day holds or what is to come next. I want a guy who lives in the moment, but also knows when it's time to start thinking and planning the future. I want a guy that can stand with me and be patient with me when I reach my lowest lows. Who stands proudly next to me when I reach my highest highs, knowing that he is, in part, to thank for.

I just want to love and be loved. Pure, unabashed, unending, raw, love.

I'm sure that you could arguably say there are guys in my life that would be willing to provide this to me and more.  And while I have no doubt that this is true,  my brain has to connect with them on that level. After all, the brain is boss. When meeting someone, my brain immediately throws them into the category of being friends or the category of possible lovers. And once they are in these categories, there is no switching.

So, I guess, therein lies the problem. Maybe the problem is just me. Who knows.

I watched Practical Magic the other day and heard a quote that I found myself identifying with very closely.

From Sally, after her husband died, to her sister Gilly, who lives on the opposite side of the country: "Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean….. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind…. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't want to believe it, but, there is no man, Gilly. Only that moon."

Now, Sally was a lot more depressed about her love life than I am. I would venture to say that I am not even depressed. Just in a state of wonderment and questioning when I would actually have the ability to feel what I want to and have it reciprocated back.

I am young, I know this. I have my whole life ahead of me to find what I'm looking for. I just hope that one day I do.

A guy can dream right?

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

The Clique That Was Not So Clique-ish

Over the past couple of months, I have been referred to as a social standing that I've never quite had the opportunity to say I've been a part of. Not that I want to be a part of it, but apparently I give off the vibe that I am.

I'm quite surprised to say that many people think I am a member of an elite clique within the community that I have chosen to spend nearly 100% of my time with. Oh really?

A clique you say?

Huh.

As I began to ponder this new description of myself, I realized I became enveloped with a white hot anger. Now, usually, I would say that if I am really angry about something, then obviously part of it must be true, otherwise I wouldn't be angry. I've always argued for the "words are just words" mantra, but, I can't side with it this time.

The fact that anyone would ever consider me to be a part of a clique is utterly absurd. And to top it off by trying to point it out to me, makes me want to punch an innocent little child.

Let's think about how modern day views the term clique. Many people my age would immediately jump to the movie Mean Girls and the ever so popular clique, the Plastics. Older ages might jump to the movie The Heathers.

Cliques are mean. Cliques degrade people. Cliques only ever hang out with themselves and make sure that everyone else around them know they are not welcome and are beneath them.

You honestly think I belong to a clique? Seriously? I strongly disagree.

Now, here's something I can get behind.

I have very few close friends. Friends that I can count on to be there for me 24/7 within the drop of hat. Friends that know my deepest, darkest secrets. Friends that I know will have my back about anything or against anyone without ever questioning me or waning to hear the "other side" before they support me. And friends that I would personally do all the same for.

To be honest, I have two (actually three, but just two out at K-State). We call ourselves the trio. Not because we are a clique, but because we know each other more than we know ourselves and know that when push comes to shove, we are really the only ones we can rely on.

And while we three are always seen together, we are far from a degrading social standing. We are three of the most accepting, most helpful, most approachable people you will find.

If this were not so, would we have random people to come up to us and talk to us about our involvement at K-State and with questions about the LGBT community?

If this were not so, would we have parties where we invited over 20 people (cause that's really all we know) to come hang out with us? And where more than 10 people showed up to said parties?

If this were not so, would we really care to make appearances at anything? Because, what's the point if we are just going to be hanging out with ourselves and excluding everyone else.

I like to consider myself one of mankind's most affectionate life forms. Something like the cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle (Thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert).

Part of an evil clique, I am not.

In all fairness, I should admit that I do exclude some people. It's human nature and everyone does it, whether they care to acknowledge it or not. But I've only excluded them because they've burned me. Hard. I give everyone a fair chance. I will let you into my life very easily and I will cherish our friendship. It's not hard to become an inner circle friend.

But, I expect the same treatment in return.

What's the point of putting love, sweat, and tears into a relationship with someone if all they are going to do is through it back into your face? There is none.

How do you expect me to keep being friends with someone who fools around with me and then immediately calls it a mistake the next day knowing full well how sacred I hold anything sexual in my life? What about when one say's I'm one of their best friends but then completely cuts me out of their life because that's "just what they do." How about when I give someone every opportunity in the world to prove to me that they can throw away their immaturity and become a real person, only to have them constantly embarrass me in public?

Those are nigh impossible situations to forgive people for.

So, before you start saying that I am (and my friends) are too cliquey and I need to open up my circle of friends a little more, maybe you should start thinking about why it is that I don't involve you in my life.

Chances are, you were probably a part of my (our) group once. So, what happened?

Like I said, I give everyone a chance and if we just have everyday problems, I will be more than happy to work them out with you. But, I don't cut you out and treat you like that until you really hurt me and our relationship. I don't cut people off for no apparent reason.

There is ALWAYS a reason.

Anyways, the point is, just watch you what you say.

Maybe get to know me before you start to label me.

/rant


Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

Balance and Boundaries

Balance. 

For those that have been around me for the past few weeks, this one word has taken ahold of me. It has become the premise of almost anything that I have done lately. For some, I'm sure it has proven to be most annoying, as my use of the word is usually accompanied by a rock shoved in their face with the word etched in gold underneath its Chinese symbol. I now carry this rock with me almost everywhere I go. It's kind of weird actually. I have never felt more empowered by a single intrinsic object in my life. But, rest assured, if ever I have felt down in the past couple of weeks, it has been there to pick me up.

So, why balance?

My brother pointed out to me the other day, something that I never would have noticed myself. The observation was very simple, but probably the most shocking revelation I have had to date. He told me that the reason I am having so many problems is because I've gone from somebody who never cared for another soul in this world except for myself, to someone that cares about every person around him. Awkwardly enough, at the conclusion of his statement, my mind went through an entire movie montage of my life and the way I interacted with the people around me. And he was completely right.

From about late high school to the first couple of years in college, I was mean. I was cruel. I didn't care about anybody. I didn't care about their feelings. I didn't care about whether or not they were going through a rough time in their life. I just didn't care. My focus was completely on me. I knew what I wanted to do with my life and I knew exactly how I was going to get there. If I had to step on and back-stab the people around me, I would do it. If the end result was that I would look better and be moving up, I did it.

Now, I could care less about what happens to me, as long as the people around me are taken care of. I, quite literally, allowed myself to be the emotional punching bag for many people around me. And, to be honest, some people in my life are full of deep, dark, secret and painful emotions. And I stood by them, every step of the way. I've been there through their suicide attempts, their suicidal thoughts, their drunken hot messes, their boyfriend troubles, their girlfriend troubles and their struggles with academics. I've had to pull people out of some of the darkest and deepest abysses of their life and help them realize that life gets better. I've heard stories about people that I could have gone my entire life without hearing. Stories that broke my heart and made me cry. Stories that made me continuously worry about whom they were about. I cared. A lot.

I could never quite tell you why the change in attitude. While typing this and mulling through my brain, I can't even pinpoint a general time that this would have happened. It just kind of did.

Sadly, I wasn't paying attention, and this caring attitude became some what of a game to some people. I just didn't realize until it was too late.

I've always heard the people that are the nicest and the most caring, somehow always tend to be the ones that are used and abused the most. It seems like there are people out there that have an innate ability to find these extremely awesome qualities in people and then feed off of them like morbid little succubus. It's almost kind of like a Dementor's kiss (and for those of you that don't read/watch Harry Potter, you won't get this reference). The only way I can describe it is as sucking the complete good and pure soul out of a relatively happy person, until they are nothing but an empty shell. No happiness. No fun. No nothing. It's as if they have absorbed all the bad things around them and made them control their life. 

And that's exactly what happened to me. I allowed myself to absorb peoples' problems. I allowed myself to make them my own. And, to be honest, I think I even tried acting on them. The worse part of it is, these other people, allowed it to happen as well. And they knew what they were doing. They knew exactly how to get me to do what they wanted. The knew exactly how to make me be there for them 24/7.

They bribed me with dreamy friendships and hierarchy within their lives and ranks. But words just became words. Their actions spoke a completely different story.

They were never there for me when I needed them the most. They would ignore me when all I needed was a few simple words of advice. They would tell me that I was overacting and that I just needed to let it go.

Once realizations started settling in, I came about the truth that these people would never provide to me, what I provided them. I, essentially, was just a pawn in their twisted little game of life.

That's where balance steps in. I knew that I couldn't go back to the way I was before. Because, that Caleb, was just like them. But, I also knew that I couldn't allow myself to be used and abused as I have been. I needed to set boundaries. I needed to re-calibrate and figure out those people, whom I knew, would always be there for me. And then say goodbye to those who wouldn't.

This has proven to be one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. It's hard to understand that those you could care about so much, could be so careless about you. But, it happens. To all of us.

I came across this quote the other day while watching Ugly Betty: "I've had to say goodbye more times than I would've liked. But everyone can say that. And no matter how many times we do it, even if it's for the greater good, it still stings. And though we will never forget what we've given up, we owe it to ourselves to keep moving forward. What we can't do is live our lives always afraid to say our next goodbye. Because, chances are, they're not going to stop. The trick is to recognize when a goodbye can be a good thing; when it's a chance to start again."

My goodbyes are a good thing. I can start again. I can reset some friendships and I can burn bridges with others. I can balance my life.

I only have one to begin with. Why waste it on those who don't care?

Balance.

It's more than just a word.

It's renewed hope.

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

I Blame You

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been forcing myself to observe people. Usually, this isn’t out of the norm, as people-watching tends to be one of my favorite past-times. But, I’ve been trying to observe people in a different type of light.

At first, I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for or trying to figure out. Then, after repeated observations, I finally saw what it was that was bugging me.

I started to notice how shallow people really are. Now, let’s be clear, I’ve always known people were shallow. Unfortunately, it’s a human habit not easily broken. But, I kept seeing things that were bothersome. Things that I just didn’t understand or could even begin to fathom wondering why.

Take for instance, one’s weight. The issue of body image has long been discussed and debated, probably to the point of wearing the subject out entirely. But, never have I been so close to the topic, than now.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve lost weight.  A lot of weight. Probably more than what is usually considered healthy for a two-month period. I wish I could say that it just kind of happened and I was finally realizing that living a healthy lifestyle is the best thing to do. But, in reality, I lost my weight in an entirely unhealthy way.

I started noticing people judging me for my weight. It wasn’t exactly in what they said, but more of what they expressed with their body language and their overall attitude towards me. I’ve never been one to really complain about how I look, as I have always felt that I am the way I am for a specific reason. But, when you look at me and you ever-so-slightly extort the muscles in your face to a small, but noticeable, (at least to me) expression of disgust, I can’t help but become disgusted with myself. Or, when you so easily and half-comically poke fun at my extra “love-handles”, saying, “Oh, you know, it’s just a joke. You look fine the way you are.”, it’s not so hard to see that you’re actually saying, “Ha, sucks to be you.”

How about all them skinny people saying they are fat. Now, obviously this is something that bugs a lot of people, but I figured, what the hell? Why not offer my two cents?

To all the skinny people in my life and within my six degrees of separation: you may think you are fat, but let’s be clear, you aren’t. When I can wrap my hands around your waist and still feel the bones poking through your skin, you are skinny. If I can hug you and can feel/realize that I am hugging a toothpick and you are hugging a giant teddy bear, you are skinny. And just because you have a little “pudge”, doesn’t mean that you are fat and need to lose tons of weight.

You know how horrible it makes me feel when you honestly think that your little “pudge” makes you feel fat? Seriously? I look at you, then look back at me, then look at you again, and the only thing that I want to do is shove my finger so far down my throat that I throw up everything that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. I would kill to have just “pudge.” I would kill to look remotely just like you.

So, yeah, I’ve lost some weight. And yeah, I feel pretty good about it. But I did it because I was forced to see that society will always be a lot more critical about one’s weight than most people care to acknowledge. I’ve come to hate food. I can’t even look at it half the time anymore without thinking about how I’m going to lose the weight that it is going to make me gain. How sad is that?

Another thing that really irks me, and essentially ties into this whole body image thing, is deciding if one is date-able or, for some, screw-able based off of what they look like. Sometimes people even go so far as to decide this based off what a person can bring to the table with their genitalia.

Now, I totally get that people can be picky and that people have their own type when they are looking for a significant other. But, you’ve gone too far when the only thing you decide this on, is based off of their outside appearance.

When did relationships that were based off of communication, feelings, and what somebody is on the inside, go completely flying out the window? When did it become all about what somebody looks like? You really think that you can build a life around someone where the only thing you find attractive about them is the fact that they, themselves, are attractive? Really?

Oh, and what about if a guy has a small penis and/or an uncircumcised penis? And for women, what about the fact that they may not really have any breasts? You’re going to make your decision based off of that? Seriously?

How shallow can one get?

Maybe their would be a lot less broken hearts in this world if people stopped living in their fantasies and completely dismissing someone that could actually be really good for them, just because they are not the “ideal” body-type.

Maybe if people could realize that some of us are just humans and are very fragile and are obviously never going to be “perfect” by society’s standards, life may indeed, be a little more enjoyable.

So, I blame you. I blame every person who I just described for the self-centered, egomaniacal, looking-for-nothing-but-perfection society that we live in today. A society that I can’t even believe exists.

For all you people out there that have little extra “love-handles” to go around, that may not look like a photo-shopped picture of David Beckham, or that may not live up to genitilia standards, know that someone out there (ME) loves you for who you are. Not for what you look like.

Know that at least one person is rooting for you and is on your side.

Just something to think about.

Peace, Love, and Other Miscellaneous Happy Things,

CK

The Real Me

I've never understood the phrase "You've changed."  In my opinion, I don't think a person ever changes who they are, I think they just kind of loose themselves. For some, loosing themselves proves to be the best thing that ever happened to them. For others, it's total chaos.

I say this because while I don't think people change, I think we continually add things to our persona. Things that help us move through our life and things that make us, essentially, a better person. But, under the gun, I think a person will revert back to their most basic, primitive instinct. The person they've been since they started developing a sense of one's self.

These past couple of weeks, I've heard that all too familiar phrase more than I care to acknowledge. I don't take offense to it, nor will I ever. But, it scares me to think that those people so close to me, think that I've changed. I can't help but think, maybe they never really knew me to begin with. And the sad thing is, maybe I never gave them the chance.

In the past couple of months, I've experienced what I can only describe as life. And I don't mean everyday, normal facets of life. I mean that part of life that no one talks about because we can't believe we ever went there. That part that we keep so packed away that it takes either a fare amount of alcohol to bring out or complete trust in the person you are telling. What I've put myself through, I'm not sure I would ever want to put myself through again. I shook every bit of psychological foundation that I ever built up. I watched walls crumble down all around me. I literally felt like I was standing in a dark room full of nothing but my entire life flashing up on little screens. The past, the present, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

I lost control of me.

It was during this time that I formed this incessant need to reach out and grab ahold of everything around me. And believe me, I grabbed ahold of everything. Tightly. As if my life depended on it. Actually, you could even say that at that time, my life did depend on it.  I grabbed ahold of things in my social life, I grabbed ahold at the chance of love, and I grabbed ahold of the people in my life. I was like one of those hoarders that can't bear to ever let anything go. It was as if I had formed an invisible network of veins with them and if you dared remove them, you dared remove the very thing that was keeping me alive.

I latched onto my fraternity. I tried to make it into something that I could lean on. Something that I could shape into my own little bubble of comfort. I tried to make it my life. But, I leaned so hard onto an organization that was barely keeping itself afloat, that I began to resent it. I resented it for not helping me. I mean, there I was asking for help and all I could see was it looking back at me, with an evil smirk, saying that it knew what it was doing to me and that it didn't even care. I began to think that it and the people in it absolutely hated me. So much so, that I just wanted to leave. I wanted to leave and never come back.

I latched onto love. Now, I've been known to fall fast for people. I can't really help it, it just kind of happens. I actually think it happens a lot more than most people really care to admit.  To be honest, I really couldn't tell you if I started loving because I actually loved someone or I started loving because I needed someone. Regardless, I had moved out of the two month crush zone and into what most people define as being in love. I ended up doing what I have always told people to try and avoid when it comes to this point in their life. I formed a kind of jealous attachment to this person. Not only did I form a jealous attachment, I also formed a pretty strong friendship with him as well. I came to know this person on many levels and because I wanted him to know that I would always be there for him, I allowed myself to listen to all the stories about his current love-life. Which only increased my jealous hatred for him and for the one's he liked. I hated them because they knew how he felt about them, but they were not interested. My mind just couldn't understand why they didn't understand that they had this person who was, by my own very definition, amazing, and they were just completely uninterested or didn't seem to care. I hated him because, there I always stood and yet I only ever seemed invisible.

I latched onto my friends. Of all things I did, this was by far the most intense attachment that I formed. I came to rely on my friends to basically remind me to keep breathing. They were my life-line, my life support. And I used and abused these relationships so much that I started resenting them as well. What I needed was constant contact. I mean 24/7, never leave my side, never leave my eyesight type of contact. And even though I know that is not humanly possible, I wanted it. And when I didn't get it, I became angry.  Even though I couldn't stand to be around them most of the time, I couldn't stand to be without them.  Again, I felt like I was screaming for help and my screams were going nowhere except for a boomerang action right back to me. And again, I felt like they were beginning to hate me and that they no longer wanted to ever be a part of my life. So, I tried cutting them out of my life. But, it didn't take long for me to realize that I couldn't do that. As much as I didn't want it to be true, I needed them. Sad thing is, I think I whole-heartedly blamed them for this attachment
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I lost myself because I was focusing on the negatives of my life and everything that intertwined with it. Because, let's face it, negatives are a lot easier to find than positives. I was just so wrapped up in fear and anger that I turned all of them into hopeless, lost causes. And it took me a lot longer to find the happiness in all of them.

What I failed to realize, and insurmountably realize now, was that it was no one else's fault but my own. I created these situations and I suffer because of it.

What I failed to see was that I was trying to use the fraternity as a substitute for what I thought was missing in my life. I mean, it's OK to rely on an organization for support, but I can't blame something that in reality doesn't really exist. It exists on paper, but it's just a concept. There isn't anything I can physically reach out and grab. Instead of relying on the fraternity to help me, I should have noticed the hope that the fraternity was providing for other people and in turn, the hope the fraternity provided me.

What I failed to see was that even though I loved someone, they didn't have to love me back. Love is fickle. It's here one second and it's gone the next. What I should have been focusing on was that I actually got to experience the feeling and attempt to show it. Which, oddly enough, was something that I don't think I have ever experienced before. So what if he didn't like me back? As long as he is happy, I am happy. I also needed to realize that he was going through the exact same situation that I was. He too had fallen for people that didn't feel the same way for him. He too had formed an attachment to people that didn't notice he was there. It doesn't matter if I will ever get to be that special someone to him. What matters is that I get to be his friend. I get to be someone in his life that he can trust and rely on for support for anything life throws at him. I get to be in his life. And that is more than I could ever have hoped for.

What I failed to see was that my friends were doing all they could for me. They were there for every problem that I ever brought up to them. Day or night. If ever there was a valiant attempt to be there for me every waking second, they would be the epitome of that attempt. But like I mentioned earlier, it would be unrealistic and an utter waste of their time to be there for me that much. To provide that constant contact that I thought I needed. I now know that, whether or not they realized it, I was suffocating our relationship. I was. Me and me alone. I needed to be able to rely on myself before I could fully rely on them to help me through my problems.

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This place is brutal. No one can deny that. It's like a mortal coil that never ceases to disappear. The world has forgotten what it means to be human. All around us we see people that are portrayed as stable, stone walls that can resist even the most terrifying attack. Portrayed as if they are comparable with the strength of the Gods. 

But, in reality, we are the most fragile things on this planet. It takes but just a few simple words, a few wrong actions against us and we are broken. Shattered even. Into a million little pieces that no one can ever put back together.

Yet, in the midst of our pain, we pick up the million little pieces and we try to move on.

We try.

Day after day, step by step, one breath at a time. But it's never really enough, because who can really pick up a million pieces?

I am human. I am fragile. I may act like I have it all together and I may act like I know what I'm doing, but the truth is, I'm just as lost as the rest of us. I often find myself wondering how it is that anyone ever really finds their way in this world.

But, I have hope. I have hope that even though I may not see it right now, I will eventually see the light and I will eventually see that I am OK. I will realize that I can't blame everything and everyone I am involved with for my problems. My problems are my own and mine alone.

I didn't change, I just lost myself. And far be it for me to say that I am back to where I want to be, because I'm not.  But, I am better. I am finding happiness all around me. And I hope that if any of you ever get into the place that I was, that you know that you will find your way out. It may take a lot of soul-searching and a lot of self degradation, but you will find your way.

You will find you.


With all my heart,

Caleb