Looking through the images of my past is sending "weird" energies through me. Some say the Past Present and Future co-exist. I could somehow almost believe that given the way I feel. So many emotions long since consciously forgotten are being stirred up.
I really should just be packing and rearranging things for a move. The problem is I can't help but wonder if I am doing things now because I won't have a chance later. I somehow wonder if I am in some way going to make things better or easier for someone if I was to die.
Something keeps telling me I am going to be around for a while, and yet at odds with that is a great pull to do what I am doing. A great pull to make myself known in this world that I will be leaving at some point. I am desperate to leave something behind. The problem is that the way I am doing it here is hardly the way to do it. Sites come and go all the time.
I almost sometimes wonder if I am writing a book this way.So much is coming out with the cues of life that I am running into and up against.
Does our life mean anything if no one cares about it when you are gone? That question has been nagging me. Many people live on through their kids. I don't have any. When my time is up, will it really matter if I mattered? Is life about what we leave behind? Or is it about the mark we make while we are still here?
Does it matter?