Bruises

Hard to tell, now, how long it has been since I felt the urge to record things so I could remember them. Harder in a way to determine the last time I felt like I had done a thing worth remembering, had a thought that I had not thought a thousand times before.
If I don’t even think the same way as I did before, am I the same person? And if I’m not, is the person I used to be dead now? That would be a mercy, I think, if I didn’t have to share my ancestry with the kid that thought he would take the world by storm.
Maybe if I hadn’t had such hopes I wouldn’t be so ashamed now.