every so often i have a moment where i wonder if all of the important
things have stayed with me, and there's the briefest flash of panic
that i have let slip some vital secret of life i was too lazy to take
the time to write down, or that i have lost the pages i wrote them on. history never looks like history when you're living in it, and that
applies to a life too. the small decisions that led to other decisions
that led to grand sweeping change or turmoil. our histories, well, i
don't know about you, but i doubt anyone will bother to write mine
down. and if by chance someone did try to dig it up and write it down,
they might get it all wrong despite honestly wanting to remember me. i
mean, even if they scrutinized every step i ever took, they'd still be
looking at those steps through their own eyes, their own thoughts,
their own schema, thoughts, and feelings, not mine. i commit a lot of things i want to keep to paper. i commit a lot of
what i have learned here, to ghostspace, but there is so much more i
can't hope to capture. living those moments sometimes must suffice. ghost
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