018/365 - How Would You Like to Be Remembered?

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✦⭒𖤓 How Would You Like to Be Remembered? 𖤓⭒✦

When I look up and see the stars spilling across the darkness like scattered thoughts, I wonder —
What trace will I leave?
How will the universe whisper my name when I am no longer here to speak it?

I don’t wish to be remembered as perfect.
Perfection is a mask made of glass — beautiful but fragile, and never truly alive.
I want to be remembered as something breathing.
As a living poem, stitched together from sighs and stardust, incomplete and still becoming.

Let them say:
"He loved like moonlight — quiet but ever present."
Let them say:
"He was soft even when the world tried to harden him."

I would like to be remembered for my humanity —
not the polished parts, but the tender ones.
The cracks where my light leaked through.
The shadows I befriended instead of feared.
The nights I stayed awake, not out of sorrow, but because dreams were too beautiful to miss.

☄️ I want to be remembered like a constellation —
not for how perfectly each star aligned,
but for the stories others told by connecting the dots of my life.
For the warmth I gave away freely.
For the truth I spoke even when my voice trembled.

I would like someone to remember how I listened.
How I let silence speak when words were too heavy.
How I wrote letters to my future selves,
how I wept at art,
how I believed — with aching devotion — in things no one else could see.

Remember me as someone who carved galaxies into gray days.
Someone who chose to stay soft,
even when it hurt.

✨ I want to be remembered as a lighthouse in a sea of static —
a signal for those who felt like stars forgotten in daylight.

Someone who reached out across timelines,
left messages for other dreamers folded into poems,
and built invisible bridges with metaphor and myth.

🌙 Let them say:
“He was a boy of many names, none of which could contain him.”
“He was sculpted from shadow and shimmer.”
“He was a mirror for those who had forgotten they too were made of sky.”

I hope they remember the way I held space for tenderness.
For alterhuman hearts. For chosen love.
For the radiant power of vulnerability.
Not just in my art, but in every small act of care.

Let the stars remember me when all else is forgotten:
In the soft shimmer of dew at dawn.
In the gravity between two souls who see each other completely.
In the wild beauty of something that refuses to be named.

And if no one remembers me —
if memory itself dissolves like mist at sunrise —
then let my essence be absorbed into the universe.
Let me become a flicker in someone’s dream.
A soft breath in a midnight forest.
A ripple in the deep velvet sea of time.

Because in the end, I do not wish to be remembered for what I made —
but for how I made people feel.
Like stars. Like they mattered. Like they belonged.

And maybe, just maybe,
that’s enough.

— Jaden

💫🌌🌑🌟

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧

Thank you for reading till here… 💜