sometimes i wonder if i exist at all.
some think existence just works like that; i think, therefor i am.
i dont think im one of those.
i exist as long as there are those that believe in me.
and i havent seen them for a long time.
do i exist? or am i just a blurred photo on a forgotten corner of wall.
questions.
one might say, you're the sum of your memories.
but all i can remember are the painful ones.
i smoke. i drink. i read. i write. i breathe. i (rarely) make love.
but have i truly made an identity, made some kind of impact on the souls i have encountered in this life?
to know if i've made a difference or not; to know if i've mattered to someone other than myself; to know that someone, somewhere, cares about me and remembers me fondly; for someone to say, "That's Gary A. Hanson, the finest man I know.  I respect him, and I feel enlightened for having known him."
thats when i will acknowledge my own existence.
- Gary Alexander Hanson, December 8th, 1997.