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Regret clings to my soul like cobwebs in a dusty attic. It seems that all that is left of me are memories of what was as hope drains from my heart leaving me empty and lifeless. With head bowed and shoulders intent on  greeting each other in sorrow, I sigh deeply and turn on the machine that taunts me as it boots up. Mindlessly I click on Twitter and my eyes capture a flicker, a quote that wraps around my chilled heart and shakes me from my coma of hopelessness.

@GrantThomson A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.- John Barrymore

I do not want to warm myself on chilly nights with fading memories of my past accomplishments playing like a scratched album with the needle stuck in the grooves. A small piece of my old fighting spirit rises to the surface and a longing to make new “bests” that are in the present and now. I fight through the fog that has enshrined me to bring my fingers to the keyboard defiantly tapping out words, ramblings that may or may not become sentences but determined nevertheless to find my way again