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Constantly being chased by memories that I would rather forget, my life is catching up with me.

I am reminisant tonight, as I have been all day. My mind is occupied by memories, some that I rather forget, some that I hold onto with every ounce of my being. Things that have made me smile, things that have made me cry... and how. I don't know who to blame for this, but I think that I shall blame it on Outland. It all seemed to have started last night as I was dragged onto the dance floor, where there is much people watching that can be done. But as I forcefully refused to participate in the dancing, I began to think about the people who were. What are they trying to escape from? What kind of emotion are they releasing and venting with every motion that they make? Who is in their lives that misses them right now, that just wants to see their face, and hear their voice.

And then I begin to think about the people in my life that make it worth getting up every morning and to keep moving. The people that the mere sight of them makes the exterior world melt away, and I am elated and sublime, simply to be alive so that I could have a chance to see their beautiful faces and hear their lovely voices. The people that make my life worth living.

And while I thought of this at Outland, the world seemed to have frozen. I was in love with my life, and with those in it. I had a sudden moment of appreciation that had to be recognized. But how? There is no way that I have the strength needed to give these people hugs or kisses that would show them how much they mean to me. No words that I could use to tell them how much I love them.

I have come to believe in a way that my mere existance shows these things. By virtue of the fact that they make me who I am, they are the ones that keep me alive. And that sometimes my actions may be misunderstood, but that in everything that I do, I try to make them proud, I try to make them happy. I try to give them no reason to ever be displeased with me, or with life.

There is no way that I could ever thank these people enough, ever. But maybe these words, written on a screen that I can not see through my tear filled eyes, is a simple start.

Sometimes a moment can open your eyes to the beauty of everything around you. Listening to Led Zeppelin's album Zoso, I was amazed at the intensity of the guitar at one point in the song--Jimmy Page was really working overtime--and as I leaned forward in my chair to adjust the volume, a police car drove by, its wailing siren exactly in tune and on tempo with the song. Not the same melody, merely a perfect complement, almost a descant by a phantom fifth member of the group. Nobody else listening to that album anywhere else in the world at that moment understood that three second slice of music like I understood it right then.

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