On Giving Up and Giving In.

It's interesting how we depend on other people to justify ourselves and our existence. The witness of those outside of ourselves gives our lives a certain weight, a certain reality. We are validated by our daily interactions with friends, family, and loved ones. The memory of us and who we used to be lives on in the stories and in the memories of others. They reassure us that we are important--that once we really did exist and that all our own thoughts, memories, secrets, fears, emotions, and greatest joys were all real and true. As long as they remember. Because once they forget, then that part of who you were goes too. Words and memories, shared between two people, can only exist as long as the other can bear testimony to it. A lost moment is gone forever and lost to the world. Not one soul outside those two people will ever know of it--and so the world will never know that part of you. Without anyone to remember that moment, it might as well never have happened. The reality of you fades into near nothingness. Imagine all the lost memories, the forgotten people. The silence is deafening. But this begs the question of why we interact with other people. Is it to truly meet another person, or a vain attempt to gain some sort of immortalization? Are we so afraid of death?

I give in. Destroy me.

My weekend:

-Hist101 reading
-Hist601 write up
-100 pages to grade
-Hist601 outline/group work
-Hist601 reading
-3 hours Latin translating
-2 hours Greek vocab, verbs, translating

Goodbye Summer. Hello all-nighters.

I'm feeling overwhelmed.