For the past few days, I took a lot of time thinking about my legacy. Thinking about what I will leave on this earth, in this city, that will outlive me. For many people they find this in their children, in families, and those they leave behind. As much as I dream of having children, I fear my reality and lifestyle is pushing that dream farther and farther away. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or not, but I am sure of one thing. I do not want the burden of telling my story to fall on the shoulders of my family. For those who have to create the narrative for their dead loved one. To my wife, who would prefer family time over the idea of a legacy, for this to all fall on her lap would be the cruelest gift my death could leave her. When my time is up, will I have done enough for her not to have to say anything. Will I have created something that the community can remember me for? If Pure Ink Poetry dies, does my memory die with it? Will I be just another poet who was forgotten along the way? Is this why I’m writing this down today?

I did not come to this notebook to bring up my legacy. I am in love with new things, ideas, and opportunities. I chase them with fervor, but I am in a constant wrestling match with time and distance. Time disguises itself as my friend, but in reality I just endured everything it has taken from me. It has served as a clear and present thief who refuses to hide its face. Stolen moments, stolen interactions, stolen abilities, stolen opportunities. If life is full of moments then time is the villain that takes those moments away. The balancing attribute of time is that it’s fair, unbiased, and steals equally from everyone.

When you face a challenge like that, you can complain about it, or you can accept it as a constant, and change the way you operate. Time presents challenges, and it’s on you as a human being to face that challenge head on and respond accordingly. I have accepted the limitations time has put on my life and I’m still accepting what it has taken from me. I have found that in many of those cases, I have been compliant in those outcomes. When a moment presents itself (regardless of how long) it is on me to seize that moment and turn it into a memory before time transforms it into regret. I have missed many of these moments in my life, and I have learned from that loss. I have grown and I refuse to miss out on any more moments, regardless of my place in society, expectations put on me, or who I have been in the past.

True freedom in life is having the ability to choose the moments that craft your life. It’s realizing that you can’t sacrifice too many of your moments for those who collect regrets and want to trade them with you. I went through a depression over a month ago because I was surrounded by so many people filled with regrets and negativity, and when even the closest of your friends is swimming in regrets, you find your moments slipping away tending to their regrets, creating regrets of your own.

The biggest regret I have is how much of my life has been wasted by waiting. Waiting on people, waiting on phone calls, text messages, opportunities, etc. I’m waiting on something right now, as this very moment and it wears on me. Waiting on something always involved a human element. Always waiting for another human to do what needs to be done to your satisfaction or disappointment. The most difficult part is the waiting. putting your entire life on hold, half-investing yourself in distractions just to get by, while awaiting acceptance or rejection of a proposition, idea, romantic declaration, or yourself. I believe that this is why we live in an instant gratification society today. For many, it

takes waiting out of the equation. That is because you’re dealing directly with human elements. If you don’t receive a text message within a certain timeframe then we as humans protect ourselves from the waiting experience by assuming the worst and attempting to cope with that in our own way. That can result in rage, anger, tears, feigned lack of caring, indifference or convenient short memory. We don’t like the feeling of imbalance when we’re waiting, so we as people avoid it at the worst cost. I have been a habitual waiter for most of my adult life. I cannot say for sure that it has improved my life or taken away from it, but I feel its effects constantly. If I’m not waiting on something or someone, then someone or something is always waiting on me. And you pray that in the end, when it’s all said and done, that it was worth it.

There is no objective way to measure that. I feel as though Julez has been waiting on me for a long while now to stop and appreciate what we have, and what we have built together, but what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough? What if I don’t think it’s enough? I don’t think it’s enough. I’m not satisfied, and I don’t think I ever will be in this life. I sit in one place and imagine being another, and I believe she’s waiting on the day that I finally come home. Entirely. But there is still so much to be done, and I only have this one life to do it. Time is taking this life from me, and my battle with time is taking time from my wife. Time has sent for me, but I will never go peacefully. There is still work to be done, experiences to be lived, pleasures and pains to be experienced. This fight is not done, I am not done. I’m on the clock, and I’m running out of time.

So each moment, every interaction, every encounter must be the best use of my time, or you will have my presence, but not my mind. It’s not personal, it’s that I’m running low on time. When my time is up, what will my story be? What will be the memories that flash before my eyes? I want them to be filled with the moments I was bold enough to take advantage of. Filled with the moments that I created for others, and moments that were worth the wait. I hope you’re worth the wait.

Julez, I hope I’m worth the wait.

– Brandon Williamson