Still, my name is Channyn

and I am a fighter.  Like the cries, and the liquor swig, I fight long and hard.  When I was little (and, still now) my mother said, I can't just let it go.  Or more accurately, "you always have to have the last word."  Last word or not, my words are my best weapons.  

I've been thinking a lot lately about the existential. This is not something new for me. I take my role in this life very seriously. In fact, it is most of what drives me.  I am in love with the ideas of equality, justice, fairness, and yes, the art of defending the ideal. Sometimes I let it get the best of me. I am the quintessential, "are you there God, it's me Margaret" Although, clearly my struggle isn't with sanitary napkins and increasing my bust size.

How do I say that life is so hard without hurting the ones I love most?  How do I fix what has been torn, to find what is real?  How do I use that to help others? How do I stop that which is wrong without hurting what is right?

I don't know the answers, I will stumble in my search, but clearly I am willing to fight (and sometimes cry) to find them.