Day by day I tell myself how malcontent I am here and how much I hate this city. The crime, the recessive economy, the lack of diversity. I wake to the sun and the fresh air that is now engulfing this scenic suburb of Rochester, and I rue this town. With the warm weather comes painful memories and lingering thoughts of regret. Attempts to keep my stare away from the rear view mirror are fouled by  the familiar streets and acquainted hangouts.

The beat of my heart implores me to make a move, to stop stoking the embers that persist to smolder. Always threating to reignite the flames that have left my landscape charred and unusable. And how difficult it has become to scrape away the ash and breath in something fresh. The stale remnants of the past poke and jab and lash out in a bid to bind me.

The lilies push forth year after year despite the dirts attempt to withhold their bloom. They can sense the warmth of the suns radiant love for them and its desire for the diminutive flowers to unveil the beauty upon the world. And I know you conspire in the same way, wishing for me to grow and step forth into this world. Yet unlike the spring flowers I have not yet broken the surface and sprang forth like you hoped. Like a child on his first day of school I look back to mother knowing the security that resides behind me. Take that step forward and go into the unknown or fester in the path. The choice is quite clear cut but…………there is always a but holding me back. Fear this is. And all to well are we intertwined.

This trial between old and new is wearing me thin. Every day as I navigate these same streets I announce my coming out. With earnest I pledge myself to stop looking back and pronounce my prominence on this life. If not now then when.

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