I just spent a couple days pouring over an older blog Patrick wrote. It began and ended before we ever met each other, and it showed me so much about where he came from, what he felt, the things that made him the man he is today. The man that I love so much my heart can barely hold it.
But reading his words also reminded me of how much I wrote in the past. The blog before this one, that was so evilly torn from my hands and lost to cyberspace, received a post (or more) a day. Not all of them meaningful and deep, but every now and then I hit on something special. What would he see in me if he could read those things that crossed my mind. Would he still love me? Would he see the steps I took to today? The choices I made, both bad and good (mainly bad). But those choices that I would never change, because I wouldn't be me without them.
Writing is a wonderful tool. If the internet and technology have done nothing else, they have made us prolific. Everyone can spill their souls to whomever they wish, the entire world. And you will have a legacy. Maybe not much of one, maybe they barely remember a sentence you wrote, misquote it, and don't even remember your name. But its still there. You became a part of their life experience, and in so doing, changed them in some way.
Hopefully, just by reading what he wrote 4, 5 years ago, it has changed me that perhaps I will give more attention to the blog I have now, and not yearn and pine for the works I lost.
Because somewhere, someone remembers those old posts, and what they meant to me.
Peace out, homies.