I don’t know exactly how to do this thing called “life”. I don’t know what direction to turn…left or right? Straight? They say the only way out is through, as if I was carving steps with my own bare hands into the treacherous mountains, chipping away at old and tired rock. Arriving at the summit, I stood. I stood as tall as I ever have, as tall as I can be, I thought. Until ascending through the darkness, propelling myself carefully around the cliff’s ragged edges, lowering myself to the level ground, It is here I saw great potential. I climbed a mountain and found with its chiseled depths and crevices that it was not the mountain I was climbing which was remarkable, no, that was not it. It was the skill each step, each movement, each milestone that the mountain provided for me to carve my story.