Can you ever not sleep because you mind it filled with memories: memories of what can potentially happen, of your future, of the posibilites.
Memories you can taste on the tip of your tongue even if they have yet to exist, flooding your brain and bursting it wide with potential.
Me, I have these memories. These fleeting lost seconds of my future self, that diaspear before I can grab hold. Visions of potential that arise, overtaking my mind like a tornado. These taunting dancing shadows I endlessly chase.
What will be can’t be known but can be imagined in its most perfect, or most imperfect form. What’s living if its not living now, not filling this moment to the brim with all that is possible and impossible. Striving to fill the future the same way and lifting your glass to cheers to the past that was.
Memories are mystical like that. They appear when they have yet to exist, the come back when they should have long died, they creep up and grab you at moments of surrealism in which you question what is truth. Their hands are slimy, intenste and gripping. You think they have vanished only to knock over a bucket in the corner of your mind spilling the contents within onto your thoughts, staining the film roll that plays a loop of your life.. They infuse joy, sorrow, longing, excitement, and fulfillment into your days. They are the pulse of existence and the push to move forward. They are the reason this thing called living is worth it.
Make them well, dream of them often, use them wisely, never leave them behind, and always search for them in the future.