I am a historian.
I am a historian who spends her time tracing moments through history of people whose records are incomplete and whose words will never be read because of a lack of understanding of their own significance.
I am a historian, and I am constantly looking at events of the past with wonder at the idea that anyone could believe the work that they put their hands to could be unimportant to those that came after them.
I have seen the damaged letters, the burnt whispers of a lover to another with torn edges and missing words. I have seen the destroyed paintings and harsh critics of themselves and their worthlessness, only thinking about that moment, that event, that heartbreaking unfounded belief that they are unimportant.
They believed themselves to be unimportant to anyone beyond the there and then, the resulting blank spot in history the only impression of who they were or could have been.
I have seen the end of journals, the trailed off and incomplete thoughts due to a sudden belief that their records are not worth another person's time to read, and I wish more than anything I could see their faces to tell them that their words are important to me. I wish that I could tell them that the belief that their words are misguided ramblings from a voice that should not be heard is unfounded and that I would gladly hang onto every word from their lips.
I have seen unfinished words from poets never published, from musicians who never performed, from people who never got the chance to speak.
And I keep every single one for a rainy day, for the moment where I can hold their unfinished symphony in my hand and tell them that they are significant.
To tell them that the notion that everyone holds that the 70 years in life they get being the only time they have is untrue.
Because we are significant.
Every time we create, every time that we share, every time that we reach out to hold the hand of someone who needs us, every soul that we touch will remember the kindness of a moment.
Your unfinished symphony is beautiful.
Your unwritten novel is perfect.
Your choppy poetry with no form is the most beautiful thing I have read.
You are a wonder.
And you are significant.
I promise.