Sometimes I wonder what would I leave behind when I leave this world for good.
Well, for starters, my books. Lots of them. (p/s: Please donate them to kids who will someday, hopefully, grow up to love the smell of books like I did.)
My drawings and old paintings. And maybe some used brushes and untouched canvases.
My darling guitar. That sweet beauty. I hope someone will take the best damned care of her.
Secrets. Some will unfold, for sure. The others, I shall take them to my grave.
Memories. Some bitter, some irrelevant, and perhaps a bundle of sweet ones (I hope. And I, too, hope, that when you think of me, you'd smile. That would be more than enough, sweetheart.)
Endings don't have be so bad after all, I guess. Not even the ones that end life, or physical touches, or the ability to hear strangers' voices or to see your lover's face. They just have to be, well, bittersweet. And I guess that is all.
