A Reflective Account For The Last Time Analysis

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I will start off with the fact that I did not have a sense of purpose for the longest time in my life at first. That is not to say that I used to have no will to live, but rather, I found myself in a vicious cycle of questioning my existence, whether it was to do something great, or to simply remain the rest of my days working just enough to keep my mother from a retirement home. That was what I feared most, not because of thinking I might live my days in a dull routine like many others in this world, but the very thought that I just may end up having to live in those fears. Admittedly, I have been through quite a few things in life, but it had benefited me to reflect upon the future. Despite my struggles, it made the idea of reflection

Knowing this, I believe there is purpose, although maybe not what one would expect.

There is a lot I could reflect on, and it would likely take an entire autobiography to place all of it here, but there were three main events that had occurred to be deemed important to my purpose. In my first seven years, I had lived a very simple life in Paulden, a quiet, small town with untouched open land free to range. Nothing seemed wrong in my naïve youth, but it became more clear when they started to fight more often in front of me; of course, it wasn’t intentional, but that was when I became the object of manipulation, both emotionally and mentally. I wanted to know what was going on, but I was never told, and I could only pretend, and watch. They decided to separate, and I was switching between them until the home I lived in my whole life was foreclosed. I had seen the emotional toll on both of them. About 9 years old, I moved to an apartment with my mother to Prescott Valley, the year my mother fell to alcoholism. Often, she partied a lot, to which I suppose now that I think about it, was to catch up to her younger years before she had me. One Christmas Eve, she was at a party, and I was "babysat" by her friend's son, Jack. Almost