Before the first word spewed out of my brain, through my fingers and into this post right here, my journey as an Invictus writer had already began. It began before I set foot in Brad’s classroom, before I set foot at Ball State…  it began before I even knew how to set a foot anywhere, let alone form a sentence.

What I’m trying to say is what I will be writing about this semester has been a part of me since before I even knew it was a part of me. Make sense? I’m not sure if I get it either. But that’s what this journey is about, right?

So why is it so hard to write the story?

Because it’s my stuff. My stuff preparing itself for the whole world to see: the type of thoughts you scatter in bits and pieces amongst your closest friends; pieces that connect, but don’t ever complete the puzzle, and the memories of times and places in your life that get muddied by what stories you’ve told yourself and what you think you really remember, it’s even the stuff you don’t even think is stuff. Which, as Brad taught us, is why it’s sometimes the most important. This journey isn’t just about being honest with yourself – which is hard enough as is – but about being honest with what feels like the whole wide world.

And today, while I panic about the million-and-one things scrambling around the other million-and-one things that occupy my mind, my thoughts keep meandering back to the fact that I’m going to have to write this story. And even though such a big part of me doesn’t want to tell it, a smaller, more powerful part of me wants some of those million-and-one things out.

Let the journey begin.