a bouquet of forget-me-nots

if you ask me what i am most afraid of i would tell you it's forgetting.

people are afraid to die, afraid to live, afraid to live, but i, i am afraid to forget.

are we not defined by our memories? by our experiences?

and the older i get the more of these that slip through the cracks in my fists, like sand.

i can't chase after them. i can't get them back.

i am nothing without my history.

i cannot build a future on shaky ground and patchwork memories.

i have already begun to forget, so tell, how will the world remember?