What Makes A Person Memorable

 What Makes A Person Memorable



   I actually owe this one to someone. I was inspired by someone on this dual entry (Writerscafe!/Blogger). I have a lot of traits that make me seem larger than life, but none of those matter. I can't remember the last time I've made an actual connection friend wise. I have high aspirations, and they're hard to compare to everyday people. However, I do have people who respect me, as well as look up to me, and can befriend just about everyone, but I've never had one person that can be a true friend. Everyone I've tried to hang out with just has that everyday life, where I do so much in one day it's not even funny. Whether it's a spot of tea in America or an absolute expedition of pure ambition, I feel others pale, and it's not about anything they did or who they are. I'd do anything for a person, as long as it is good.

   I'm torn between worlds. I've lived quickly, my appearance never fading. When I was "awakened", it was an absolute fluke. I've done a lot for people, and they've came and gone. I never forgot them, and they never return. They are still in my heart. I carry on their legacy, as any good friend might do. I'll never see them again, and that pains my soul. I defended one of them, and I guess that was before my eyes were alive. My heart, my soul, and my spirit belongs to those who aren't strong enough to protect one another. I do not have pride; anyone can call me friend, but I will always be alone in the dark, at least when it comes to peers. As we speak my novel stands complete once more, a twisted tale of morality, a story that would of made Mary Shelley proud.


   I learn from all around me. Everyone and everything. I absorb all I see. I have this fantastic gift of empathy, and I can calm a storm or make a volcano erupt. I've done it before, and I know it's what's inside the others I see. I will tell you one thing: a man is not measured by what they do, it's by the ones who love them. I'm afraid that they are gone: for most can't seem them. My great uncle died in Korea, a member of the USMC. I never would of been able to meet him either way. He is still part of me, though. I carry his emotions and wits. This is one of the many of what I'll call my weird tales.

 
  I have sat here recounting things, and I now know that a leader is always alone. I have put myself into a dedication of a cause, and although I have no stock in the zodiac, I hope they call it The Age of Capricorn. I'm not a conspirator if I announce it outright. I have enough money for a literary agent now, and I hope money from my writing will buy me a place in South Dakota. These memoirs, this cluttered journal, is my statement that I may be the last of a kind, and more alien than anything else.  The thing about a lone wolf is they always take over another pack.

  This isn't a version of a ghost whisperer, this is a tiller of the ground. My skills, my ability, is merely to form a bridge. I won't be on t.v. chasing any spooks, but I will continue to have bizarre experiences that I'll never mention. Hey, I mean if I've gotten you to read this far, I've done my job.