Mispronounced ‘Stefania’…

Going down memory-lane sometimes starts with someone dragging you down that lane. A guy who bumped into you accidentally as you always meet, a guy who you see every three months, a person that recently stalked you because they thought of you and then for once had the desire to message you, another one that added you on instagram just because they liked your picture without realising it was you in the first place, a third one that just got back from work…etc, they were all attracted to the memory of you on the same day. In this way you find reflections of you in the past as maintained in the memories of the people you have encountered. I do not actually know if I should feel flattered or simply delve in an unrecognisable and obscure feeling of longing. Longing for what though? Longing for the time when I was surrounded by people yet more alone than ever? Longing for the time when I would selfishly insist on marking my presence by discussing everything that bothered me in the philosophical idea of life with people I hardly knew…making them matter.

Matter…I saw an interesting quote today written on the blackboard of a coffeeshop. It said ‘you matter…except if you multiply yourself with the speed of light, then you energy. So are these lonely souls of my past seeking to turn me into energy? Is energy what I truly am? Am I just a memory that once changed them so deeply that they realised it years later or am I the energy they once encountered and never had the ability to claim? Am I nothing but a residue in many people’s hearts or am I truly a force that restructured their minds? Am I a tiny bit of space constantly standing next to a wormhole, sucking time so that I have access to both the future and the past? Maybe my openness to the past constitutes me a portal that bends time and space for the people that happen to encounter it. I could be simply a portal that spits out space and time; and thus, a white hole. I might be a muse or a platonic idea.

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