09.06.02-7:34 p.m.>

I just dont want to be forgotten...

not so much when I die,

but just in general.

I find myself hoping that theres something mildly memorable about who I am, and how I live my life.

Something positive.

I dont know if thats alot to be asking for out of life.

There are billions of people populating the planet.

Who am I, to be asking anyone...

to remember me ?

I guess it all stems from the cemetery visit today.

My grandmothers grave is all overgrown,with weeds and the shrubbery is all unkempt, with tears in my eyes, I begged my mom to ask my Uncle to do something about it.

She commented on how hes too stingy to do so and my heart sank into my stomach.

In the grand scheme of things this physically is all I have left of the woman who created the woman who created me.

I guess its my job to continue things in a pattern she'd approve of.

To have children, and tell them about her,to sing the songs she sang, and explain to my younger cousins, that she was NOT as neurotic, and angry as your parents make her out to be, she was just weak, and loving, and frightened, and bitter, and restless.

But she had a heart like no one else I've ever met, except for maybe my mother.

I know these things because I slept in her bed when I was afraid of monsters under mine.

Shed never carry me back to my own like my parents would. I'd watch Nick at Nite, and fall asleep comforted by the perfume-y smell of her pillows, and the sound of her breathing.

Its so hard to let go of things like that when I know they make me who I am.

Maybe I shouldnt have to.

Im so unsure of what to do with memories and emotion.

The combination of the two is enough to confuse a mentally sound genius.

What kind of chances do I have of muddling through the pair ?