I was asked a question, a question which I was unable to answer, yet one that we are continually asked, by others and by ourselves.
What is your role in the world? She asked, Why are you here? she prodded, but I could not answer, because I was born to be forgotten. Others are born to be dancers, doctors or politicians.
But I am not any of those things. I am not a singer, or a writer or an artist. I was not born to inspire or impress. I was born to be forgotten. That is the only thing we are sure of.
You can try as hard as you might, I could write my names in books, create art to last centuries, or better yet, you could famous,
so famous that you great great grandchildren's friends would know your name. So famous that even when our planet is melting, people talk about you.
So that when the last person in the last minutes of our world will think of your name. But they to will die, and you will be forgotten.
I will be forgotten, and i'm okay with that, because I was born to be forgotten.