My memory is coming back. It is curious how it comes. Each day, a rush of pieces, loosely connected, unimportant bits, snake through me. They click, click, click into my brain, like links being snapped together. And then they are done. A small chain of memories that fill in one tiny part of my life. They come out of nowhere, and most are not important.

Picture yourself five years from now. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there.

...and time becomes a forgotten detail.

Multiple closets for different needs. Overkill.

Some things aren't meant to be known. Only believed.

But I am more than a name. More than they tell me

What I think is all I have left. My mind is the only thing that makes me different from a fancy toaster. What we think does matter-it's all we truly have.