This is, in fact, the first post of 2010 in my blog, though I don't know if that's a big deal or not.
If I were to die tomorrow, I don't think it would be that big of a deal. It might mean something that I actually had a blog, that I put time into writing my thoughts on a wall for all to see, that I cared. If I'm not alive tomorrow, people won't cry because I failed that one math test a few years ago, but the friends I made in school might remember me.
If I lived just one more day, would people care whether or not my underwear matched? Would they be grossed out to read my diary and find out that I picked my nose in private? Would they care that I had said hi to them every morning and gave them hugs when they looked blue?
If I fell off a bridge, was hit by a meteor, or was killed in some other wholly unpredictable and unexpected yet catastrophic event, would it matter whether or not my dreams were big or small, whether or not I wore makeup or left my face naked, whether or not I took the time to watch the ripples in the lake and imagine they were telling me something?
What would matter?
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