Humano, demasiado humano

I wonder what life is, what it is made of. And you know what? They are only made of memories. They are made of hopes, desires and dreams. But what is suppose to be real, are your memories. The memories of every little thing that you have done, of each people you've met, the places you've been, the books you have read, the music you have listened to, the films, pictures and paints that you have seen, and above all, feelings. Humans are in a constant change... everyday we are a different person, everyday we experience something new, everyday we think differently, everyday we grow as humans, everyday we lose and we find ourselves. I believe that a human lifetime is just too little to find out who we really are, if only we could live for two hundred years we would be suprised with what we could become...if only we had more time. If only we could be free and didn't think so much about making money, raising kids, paying our bills, buying new shoes how much more we would see, how much more we would become!