Some stories thread your life together. I hope you have a few. I do. Because these are the things that separate us—the dead and the living. The feelings. The stories. The memories of touch, taste, smell. A man I met only once, but remember every day.
Some memories are bound to stick. Moments seep in, tell you to change, and for once in your life you listen —really listen. You aren't waiting for your turn to speak.
Tattoo these on your body and soul. Someone will ask. Someone will listen.
Other memories seem fleeting at the time.
The first time you touched his hand. Eating croissants in your mother’s bed when you were sick. Driving your first car to a football game in the snow. The smell of grandmother’s black coffee spilled on the carpet.
Things that make you inexplicably sad and happy and beautiful all at once.
Remember these things most of all. If you remember them, you can create them again.
Why do we put ourselves through this? Remembering things that hurt—the last time you ever kissed, your favorite band’s break-up, where you stood when you answered the phone call that sent your world numb?
But I ask again, remember these most of all. If you remember them, you can create them again. And if you create them, you will feel again.
You will be alive—sad and happy and beautiful all at once.
If you are too afraid, too tired, too defeated to accept living, know this. If you remember, you can create.
If you create, you can bring others to life with you.
This is why we are artists. This is why we are alive.