Much of my life has been a mourning of my loss of innocence; an attempt to reach out to that scared child and save him — to excavate him from his demolished spirit which was swallowed in the earthquake of coming-of-age with no sense of belonging. When you don't feel loved as a child you will search for belonging for the rest of your life because you are afraid of love. Not belonging becomes a safe place. I belonged to that loneliness. I belonged to the woods. I belonged to the red clay roads. I belonged to the blackberry vines and the blue jays. I belonged to the crimson and white azaleas. I belonged to wildness and the wind. As a Son of Dixie, I would whistle, hum and sing — alone. I looked like a character from the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; dirty, bruised, sun-kissed and freckled. I was just a little boy running around barefoot on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere Alabama. I may have been a hick, but I could run! At dusk, often on my way home, I would run barefoot through a five-acre field of dew-covered grass. I was running wildly on the tips of my toes with such speed that all I could hear was the loud wind blowing in my ears. I felt like Mercury or an Indian brave, and my energy seemed inexhaustible. I could run like the wind; feeling my power rushing through me. That memory is a highlight in childhood. It's the freest I ever felt in my youth.
— Bryant McGill
post "Once you connect with yourself, it is impossible to be lonely or desperate"