I'm trying to make it a habit of recording the happenings in my life so they will not be forgotten. It's important to me because there is no one whom I can share them with, so I alone bear the responsibility of remembering my past. My past is a part of my identity, and it's important to me that it should not be forgotten. Without a remembrance of my past, I lose a vital part of me -- my past self, the precursor to my present self, my past hopes and dreams and thoughts -- that's a part of me as much as any attribute that makes me uniquely me. It is my self, both past and present, that makes me whole.
If I had close friends and family to share my life with, that's a different story. My life would then consist of experiences with them and they would be living testament to my life's experiences. Do any of this even make sense, or do I sound like I'm ranting. Oh, well, either way it doesn't matter. What matter is I put my thoughts in writing.
Leah hasn't called my in two days. I have a strange and inexplicable hankering for contact with her. I could, of course, call her, but it feels like my calls would be unsolicited. I feel so utterly alone and lonely. There is nary a human being I can spill my guts out to. Such is the reality I live in. My reality.
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