The Value of Memory:
I some times think about what people will say about me after my soul leaves my body. I'd hope they'd talk about my positive encounters more frequently than my negative. I mean I make small talk with anyone that even slightly probes my curiosity. It could be the kid on the subway that can't pronounce the letter R correctly yet or it could be the homeless man outside of union station that decorated his street corner like a bedroom. I give away my compliments as quickly as I receive them and I always hold the door open for the person behind me. I express my appreciation to every artist I'm granted the pleasure to meet and if not in the flesh I always give their work at least five minutes of for my time for purposes which far surpass admiration alone. I try to find the good in people and even when I'm upset, I'll try to find the reason that I shouldn't take seemingly negative interactions personally. I'm guilty for holding my tongue when I feel like I've been done wrong, but I don't enjoy the person I become when I speak out of anger. I'm hard on myself because I'm excited to meet the better me, which I somehow I feel becomes more real with each passing minute. My thoughts impress me, so I feel it only fair to share them with everyone I can, much like you'd tell a friend a funny or truly inspiring story. My depth is the reason I trust that I will always find a way to understand each individual situation as they come. I write because it is the window to my soul and I love because I was not created to hate. Now I could go on and on forever and tell people all the little things that they don't make an effort to know about me or I could just hope that somehow collectively they already do and that I will be remembered in that way. As a matter of fact I don't think the tragedy lies in death itself. I think it is feeling that your memory might not be as wonderful as you hoped it would be and knowing you could never change it.