I keep getting this feeling that there's a need for me to document my story. I'm still not entirely sure why. I doubt that there's anything significantly special about me. I'm not an incredibly talented writer with bounding leaps of brilliant art to share. I sure as hell don't have some life changing story for anyone to learn from either. Yet, despite my simple commonalities with the rest of a maddeningly large and diverse world, I still get this feeling, after every dream, following every politically charged thought, and chasing every emotional experience... 'I should write that down'.
No, I don't feel the urge to write so that I can think things out, or release any pent up feelings. I don't write to tell future generations about who I was, or to warn them about any bad choices they might make in their lives, or to feed them uninspired inspiration. Though I admit that I lie, and I have some small fantasies of a grandchild of mine picking through my computer and stumbling upon all of my writings. However, this selfish and irrelevant tangent is not what I have written this for. I write simply because for everything I write, I write it only if i feel that it is the best way that I can explain myself to the ones whom I truly care about. I don't give a damn if the world understands why I do what I do. I don't care if people know how I feel.
I only hope that the people who read this understand how important they are to me. I only hope that those who are important to me know a few things about me before I come to an end for them, and I, like all things sooner or later do, will come to an end, at least as far as they are concerned. This writing is for them.
Yes, it seems incredibly dark and perhaps nihilistic to focus on my own ending, but I don't necessarily mean 'end' in terms of my life. I mean only that one day, you and I will interact for a final time. I am addressing you now, because if you still care enough to read this far, then I still care about you. This final interaction will happen whether or not you and I like it. It may be marked by a sad goodbye. Anger and apparent hatred may lead one of us to storm out on each other's lives with an abrupt ending. Perhaps we will simply fall out of contact, with no final goodbye to speak of. Perhaps one of us will die. Our final meeting is not of importance, however. As far as this is concerned, all that matters is that you understand that no matter how hard we work to stick together, look after each other... there will always come a time when that will no longer happen. Again - it doesn't matter why.
You are you, and I am I, because of the interaction we shared with each other. In some way, we have both shaped a part of each other's lives. It is in this fact that I find a little comfort in knowing that we will come to an end, for when we do, we will have stopped shaping each other. Again, a seemingly harsh finality. Yet, this ending means only that we have done all we can to change this other person, and impart to them the greatest parts of us into them. In this way, I would only think it fair that this carving of our image into that person's very essence lives on. That person undoubtedly goes on to 'carve' other people, and it is in this unending transfer of self to other that i find comfort in endings, because it seems to me, as someone carved into by you and many others, that we never actually end our relationship with each other - that we never die. Our influence on each other lives on, not only IN each other, but in those who we have passed each other on to, and they pass us on in turn.
I want to end this coffee-deprived, borderline hippie, 4 a.m. rambling by simply saying that no matter what end we come to, that image of me inside you cares about you as much as I did at the peak of our relationship. Though we will unquestionably come to pass, take comfort in knowing that you have helped shaped me, and that I will always be with you, indirectly guiding you through the ways that we have changed each other. Though that image we have of each other, in each other, will also die, as all things do, they will live on in those we passed it along to. It is in this way that we are unquestionably and unfathomably infinite. Thank you for being a part of that.
