If I died tomorrow, I wonder if anyone would ever see the small traces of myself left behind. Would anyone ever read the journals I’ve kept since I was young? Or would they be among the things thrown away; memories of happiness (but mostly frustration) reduced to garbage, easily abandoned when the coffin closes? Would my mom crack open one of a dozen journals and get a glimpse of the feelings I was always too scared to reveal? If I’m dead, I won’t have to be scared of her reaction anymore. I won’t be around for it.
If I died tomorrow, would anyone even think to look through my computer? Or would it be wiped out immediately? Would anyone notice the “Writings” folder on my desktop, click it, and look at the many unfinished stories and poems I’ve started? Would that person be among the few to see my passion for writing? Despite if they liked it or not, would they at least see the time and energy that went into one of the things I loved most?
If I died tomorrow, would I live on through social networks? Would my friends set up a Facebook page in my honor? Perhaps the page would get a decent amount of “likes,” most of which coming from people I hardly even knew. After a few weeks though, my life on these social sites would start to drift away, following me into the afterlife.
If I died tomorrow, would my handful of WordPress followers ever know? No, that’s doubtful. Who would even think to notify them of such a thing? I can’t imagine anyone typing password after password, trying to crack the code and reveal the blueprints of this blog. So many drafts would never see the light of day. In fact, I started writing this yesterday, so today is tomorrow in a sense. What if this draft didn’t make it to “Publish” and I did die? No one would ever get to see the irony of this post.
If I died tomorrow, would I have made enough of a mark to not be easily forgotten?
So hopefully, I don’t die tomorrow.