2/14 3:40AM

One day I will learn the last thing I ever learn

and one day I will draw my last breath

and these two events will coincide

and will tell me how I spent my life.

In a perfect world, the last thing I learn is that I am okay with how I will be remembered after I die.

In a perfect world I walk the eternal plane a figure crafted by the hands of all the teachers I had in life.

In a perfect world though I am gone, my hand has joined the symphony of craftsmen for many others.

In a perfect world the scars in my skin, like craters in the moon, are engraved into the memories of those close to me.

The earthy aroma of my oakmoss cologne forever lingering on my favorite seat.

My voice forever etched into the universe.

I will not let my life be wasted.

I will not be forgotten.

What if I fail?

What if I cannot become who I want to be?

In a world where I do not become a professor.

In a world where I never have children.

In a world where I am survived not even by my love.

Who will remember me?

I refuse to die in a world where I will not be remembered.

Where every dream I’ve ever had and could ever have dies with me.

Will I die in a world where I will not be remembered?

I refuse to die in a world where my memory becomes one with the endless void.

I am not the first to feel this way.

And I will not be the last.

And of those who felt this way.

Most were forgotten.

Most will be forgotten.

I do not live in a perfect world.

And still,

I will not let my life be wasted.

I will not be forgotten.

I can’t.