#2024.02.03

It's interesting to think that once I'm gone someone might come across these writings, snippets of the past, fragmented pieces. The assumptions they'll make. They can't possibly know me when I don't even know myself or maybe I know myself more than any person could know thyself. Who really knows. Either way they'll never really know. I'm ever changing and the record keeper is quite the procrastinator. So you're left with fragmented pieces mostly from the dark corners, far from the sunshine. They're such tiny pieces and if you were to put them all together you still wouldn't have the whole picture. I've often wondered why we only meet in the darkness. Maybe it's a form of therapy and who wants to go to therapy when there's rainbows.