Here lay the remains of someone who long wished to know what it feels like to hold joy genuinely.
Behind he leaves his children and the dreams he adopted but could never fully love. He leaves not any treasures or assets but rather a note, with the simple message, “How will they remember me?”.
— How Will They Remember Me? —
Will they remember the person I was or the picture of me they painted? I mean, I learnt how smile at a young age but pretending came at a later stage, will those who know me now understand I was doing it their benefit and that I was of the party so that they could find life a little more bearable?
Maybe they’ll say I was a good friend but what if they knew my kindness was born of pity; I was broken a long time, so I knew they would not be able to handle the same predicament. Would they still label themselves good companions if they found out I was always ready to save them because I accepted no one would ever come to save me?
How will they remember me? Will they remember the version of me they thought was happy, will the fact that I ended my life affect their views on themselves? I mean now they would be forced to face their hypocrisy, was i really as strong and happy as they made me out to be or will they accept that maybe their hero, needed someone too?