what is to live, if not to feel alive?
how do we go about feeling everything—
and anything—
and nothing at all?
am i but a reflection of those who have touched me?
do i carry a piece of every person in my heart?
is my brain made up of fragments
of the different interactions and memories?
to live is to live a life well-lived.
to live is to live a life well-loved.
to live is to live a life that is full.
to live is to live a life worth living.
to live is to live a life in spite of it all.
do you carry anger, or fear, or love in your heart—
and ask yourself if that's what drives you to keep going?
do you wake up every day
and continue on for the same reason as the day before?
what is the life that i've lived—
if not to be filled with love and pain, and—
and grief, and sorrow, dread, agony, yearning—
wishes, and dreams—
what is the life i've lived,
if i'm not there to live it?
memories.
shared pieces of a life that's lived.
some to be remembered,
some to be forgotten.
if not by me, then by those who live on after me—
then by those who live alongside me—
what an experience it is, to live.
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