Have you ever looked at everything around you—the infinite amount of particles in the universe that no one has been able to fully understand, the millions of square miles of the ocean, a large portion of which we have yet to explore, the 8 billion people in the world who have their own unique lives—and thought about how insignificant you are? There are people out there doing things with their lives: fighting the good fight, writing our history books, making a difference in the world—and here I am sitting on my bed at 8:22 am, writing this down on a site I rarely use.

I used to love writing—the way that words flowed freely from my brain onto the page, almost like a brush stroking a canvas.  Of course I never published anything; why would I? I'm not some profound author with amazing stories to tell like J. R. R. Tolkien or Homer; I'm just me. When I was younger, I heard that writing was a form of art. Something that painted a word picture for their audience that pulled them into whatever world you created, and then I see a piece of graffiti that just says "____ was here." pathetic.  If you're going to commit a crime or do anything that people will see, you might as well have it mean something more than "I was here." What's the point in pointing out in a way that no one will pay attention to that you happen to exist? What's the point in doing something that no one will ever care about? What's the point in doing something if there is no meaning behind it? That was what I thought for a long time, but now I'm not so sure.

Who decides who gets remembered for what? Maybe that purely drawn dolphin you made in kindergarten or that essay that you forgot was due in 3 hours so you threw something together at the last minute will be what people remember you by. In any case, do we know what our true legacy will be? Did Da Vinci know the Mona Lisa would be a beloved painting worth nine hundred million dollars? Did Harper Lee know To Kill a Mockingbird would be read in schools for over six decades? Did Stan Lee know that the Marvel franchise would be loved by so many people all around the globe?

We may never know who hears our story, who gets to know that we existed, that we are here. Maybe that is what art is: a cry for someone somewhere to notice them. a way to say, "I exist! I made a difference!" I have done something! I was here." Maybe everything we do in life is for someone to notice us.

Maybe I'm just writing this because I've pulled the third all-nighter in a row and I have a lot of thoughts racing through my head. Maybe I'm writing this because my therapist told me I should get back into writing. Or maybe I just want someone to acknowledge my existence. For someone to see this and know that I made this, that I made a difference, a small one, yes, but a difference none the less,

So now, while I'm sitting and waiting for trains to pass, I see those bits of graffiti that I would have scoffed at, but I look at them now with an understanding that I didn't have before. I made this post. I made a difference. I was here.