chapter 2, present thoughts

I don’t know why I am so generous; maybe I’m trying to repent in some way. I feel as if subconsciously I should be doing something to repent for all of the years I’ve never believed in god. I never really wanted to believe in anything to be honest. Maybe I’m so nice because I want to be remembered. I feel like maybe just maybe if I show the world my kindness I won’t just be remembered as the kid who was shy and quiet and hung out with the same people for four years in high school. I want to be remembered as someone who people were able to talk and give the wisest advice as if I were embedded with the sage knowledge at birth.

I never wanted to be a popular guy or to be the most amazing at anything; all I ever really wanted was to be remembered, and to be loved. Isn’t that all people ever truly want? I want to be remembered as the person who could laugh even though it was the grimmest day, the one who could let you cry on their shoulder and at least try to cheer you up. But it’s hard trying to make a mark in a world where you are only accepted and loved by few and judged by the rest. I know I’m a pessimist, and a man of deep thought, but I can see the world in black and white and still appreciate the meaning of an object.

I’ve heard stories of how my father was the world’s greatest optimist. I guess I take after my mother. Then again my mother had major cases of depression and could still smile. I will take after her any damned day of the week of any year. I know that this is something no one really cares to read but, I have a confession. A confession of the direst importance, I’ve always felt as if the people and moments that we are surrounded by are superficial moments that we can choose to forget or remember and bring deep down into our souls. But for me I feel like I just let these instances run over me and don’t affect me because I feel like I avoid the chances that destiny gives me as if these chances. I don’t know why I am this way, like I am rubbing the world off my shoulder as if it were simple dirt upon it. Hurrying to brush it away, almost like it were whispering words of terror. terrors so strong that it’d start wars within my memories. Decimation began armies formed, losses tallied and defeat accepted within some regions. Soon enough the sane army won and destroyed the memories that harmed my soul. The area protected by the rain, deep trenches, deeper than the sea itself. Warzones scarred and battered. My warzones littered with bodies that had been labeled with imprints. “Death”, “fear” all littered throughout these dark valleys lay slaughtered within these warzones that reside deep in my mind. Millions of coffins wheels crooked and strung across rusted metal bars. Filled with dead thoughts, blank faces and scratched off dog tags.

This war has left me with blank spots within my memories.

All I truly want is, memories with all of you.


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