I discovered a new word in the dictionary, palimpsest. Google defines it as,
a manuscript or piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing but of which traces remain
something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form.
ex. Sutton Place is a palimpsest of the taste of successive owners
I feel this way today.
I feel used.
I feel used again.
As if my entire worth derived solely as a sturdy base from which true value reigns.
I want more from life than sturdy.
I want to feel the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.
“Traces Remain” are words found in autopsies.
This 10 letter word ought to be the new 4 letter word.
Palimpsest is but a glimmer of what could have been.
A polite way to describe the consequence of failure.
And the echo of all people remembering the words, “at least you tried”.
For if there is a winner, there must be a loser.
And the existence of losers must justify the existence of winners.
Great people stand on the shoulders of the giants who came before.
Eventually, while they are giants, they will not be remembered forever for their greatness.
Only their sturdiness in supporting those with access to the sun and the wind.
Necessitating, the word, Palimpsest.
And I still feel the same.