Funny how we go through life living an illusion of importance, achievement, and legacy. Then one day, you hit an age where you realize you were a nobody. One who didn't matter in the big scheme of things. One who will be forgotten - maybe the day after you have moved on, maybe the day your spouse has moved on, maybe after your last child has moved on, or possibly, after your last grandchild has moved on. Most people rarely leave their life of importance, achievement, and legacy past a third generation as an indelible contribution that everyone will read about, and be influenced by, for generations, even centuries, to come.
When one is hit with the realization that their life was an illusion and they may soon be forgotten, some take one last desperate measure in hopes that their life's contributions will carry on long past their second or third generation of children. They write an autobiography, an autobiography that will collect dust in the attic as silverfish devour it page by page. A few may make it to the prestigious status of sitting on a library shelf in the dark corner at the back of the room collecting dust. At least sitting there, it takes longer for silverfish to devour the pages of one's life. In this age of new technology, perhaps one's legacy will sit in the Netherworld of the Internet, waiting to be discovered. The Netherworld of the Internet will devour your life faster than an army of silverfish in the attic. One stroke of the delete key from another nobody erases you from existence as servers are upgraded and inactive accounts are deleted.
I've reached that age where I realize that I am a nobody, a nobody just like you and most everyone else breathing today, and most everyone who has ever taken a breath since the first day man was created.
I am Joshua, Josh for short. In fact, I prefer Josh. I've been called Josh for so long, sometimes I forget my legal name is Joshua. I have lived life in the past, present, and the future, an uneventful life at that. I leave nothing behind as testament to my life other than the words on these pages. The silverfish of the future will need something to eat. I know. I've seen them feasting on my life, page by page.
For your listening pleasure:
Posted by Five Drunk Rednecks