"Servo iuvenis" was what I engraved on my iPod for free. I did not take Latin, but I looked some words up to make that phrase up. Because Latin is just that cool.

It meant, "keep innocent."

I feared losing the fascination with the world. The disenchantment, and the openness that will disappear with it. A certain willingness to accept different ideas and viewpoints more easily. Our experiences can petrify our views and values easily. The doctrine of relativism and being open to different views might be the general trend of the times for some minds and politics. But fascination is something different than the version of academic or political conviction. It's not a capacity to fight; it's a capacity to be hurt. Feel bad. Be at a bad mood about the feelings new and ones held onto. Genuinely be sad and eventually be integrated.

I'm going to slowly lose this, given the sort of love for rational and logical I was born with. And I do not want to settle, petrified. I aim to stay a little vulnerable. After less than two years when I was slowly forgetting this, and Guichanaso, you reminded me of this. Thanks. Which also means to say that you make me sad, too.

I'm going to lose myself. We all are.


And so hypochondriac me writes, and never to my liking. If I do like it at the moment, it quickly goes flat after I do. Revisiting it, it's never exciting. Never alive. So enjoy it as much as it sucks to do it. But to be able to refer back, I have to write. It's the only evidence I can leave to myself. It is the only evidence I can leave to myself. The only way to see who you were, remember who you were, at least through the distorted lens of the present.

The only crumb of cracker you can leave on the trail.

It is just suffering and labor to actually constantly freak about this. Like, it's really easy to let go and stabilize and petrify. I remember in tenth grade when I first found the phrase, "I dunno," convenient. Convenient because I don't have to deal with people or ideas. "I mean, I dunno." Write it off. I never really think deeply. You caught me on this too, Guichanaso. But to let go, and justify it with some bullshit that goes like, "Everything and every moment actually shapes me and becomes part of who I am and always lives on." I believe that,


if I can't remember, I just lost that moment. It has nothing to do with me. It doesn't live on. The world forgot. Probably for the best. It's still probable that those little things actually had an impact on me. But I have to keep myself obsessive by thinking like this. Feel, think, write- hopefully, hopefully a little deeper, hopefully, hopefully getting bigger by it. And I just, I have to keep myself innocent. More crumbs, more crumbs to mark my path. Puking up all thoughts. One day, to be part of the forest or to be out on the field, reminiscing the forest.

 

This is a little taste of my insanity.

Mothagesso.

My dream to keep my innocence. Servo iuvenis.
A reassurance from The Economist, if you will.
See also 'Memento' directed by Christopher Nolan.