No one in this world is immune to the angry demon which is time. Does anyone really understand what death is until it is fighting its way into your home? Although presumably the most inspiring stories are the ones in which people who are the closest to death actually are inspired to live worthier, to me are the saddest. Why does it take agony, pain and heartache to understand that we are not immortal? Why is it that in the shackles of death do we find the keys of existence? Would it not be easier to assume that damnation is upon us. As I am writing this I could perish with the ease of a clogged artery, I will not have the luxury to see my life pass before my proverbial eyes, I will not be blessed with the opportunity of second chance. I would not be able to tell my family that I am only fulfilled in their presence. I will have lost everything, and at one point in the future I will have been forgotten. My goal in life is not only to be remembered but also for the remembrance within myself. I want to know that I was a good person, I want to know that I was important. I DON’T WANT TO BE FORGOTTEN!