There was a time when I looked at life from the other side. A quiet boy, with a few friends and a good heart. I thought I would grow up, go to college, get a job, and somewhere in that mix, I thought I would fall in love. I did all of those things, but didn't finish any of them. If I had seen what I would become when I was a boy, I would have shied away from me. The child I remember would not have gotten a tattoo, or lived in a van with four other guys for months at a time, literally singing for his supper. That boy was destined for great things. He didn't wear combat boots, and always had skinny arms. He was pushed around a little bit by the bigger boys, but there was always someone smaller, so he never bore the brunt of it. He was mean sometimes, but not often. But even though he was generally a good little boy, he didn't understand why. He had never had to deal with the death of a friend. His heart had never been broken. He had never seen the looks of distrusting parents, pulling their children closer, and whispering as he walked by. He didn't understand what it cost to be nice, because to that child, it cost nothing. He was the son of middle class parents who loved each other. He had never known what divorce could do to a person. He didn't always have everything he ever wanted, but he never went without. Society accepted him, because they were like him, or they wanted to be. Somewhere along the way, that child experienced all of those things, and more. Instead of a life of averages, his life became one of extremes. Love and loneliness. Joy and pain. Laughter and tears. I often think that I'm better for it, but that boy might disagree, if he could see me.