Looking at this picture of me, makes me feel like a ghost!

Wondering if I truly am there or if my existence is only in another's imagination.... As a child I was never afraid of the dark or monsters under my bed, why? Because I knew that the dark was a necessary occurrence and monsters under my bed, well they would never come within, only be limited to the darkness and coldness that the floor under my bed could offer them. No, the only true fear I have ever had and this, for as long as I can remember is: To be forgotten. What if I am forgotten looked at as though I had never existed. A meaningless life with no memories, no definition of person, no contributions to be remembered for those who are to be eventually left to carry on, all my years of awareness I have questioned myself: “Will I bring change in another’s life? Will I be kind? Will I make another joyful? Will I bring happiness to one that is sad? Will I make a difference even in only one person’s life?” All these questions and so many more; You see history has always been my first love when it comes to interests. And reading as well as studying this subject I came into realization very early that to be part of history is not to have been great by actions or discoveries, nope, to be part of history is much simpler than that. You have to be remembered even if it’s only one person that does to go “down in to the books”

Yes I am a mother, a lover and ultimately I am a friend, but even if I do try to live an honest life, love with all my might and laugh or cry from the inner depth of my soul... will that be enough to be remembered and, am I the only one who fears with all that is me to fall into nothingness when my time to move on comes?