What is life? Is it a mystery? Is it an adventure? Is it a way to help
others? Or is it so brief compared to the rest of the time in the universe it has
no meaning at all? People have been wondering this for thousands of years,
yet no one has found an answer. Many look for complicated ways to
understand life, yet the answer is so simple; life is a book.
Since the day the binding was opened for the first time,and the author
began writting the story; every thought, action, and emotion that is
experienced is written into the book. Memory is just rereading the book.
Some pages torn, stuck together, smeared so we can't remember it as well,
but it is all writtten down. Every hope, every dream, every fear is recorded in
time forever.
Some books have flashy, tacky covers, but tell the most troublesome
stories on the inside.
Some have dull, nondescript covers, but tell the
warmest, most adventurous stories that causes one to recall some earlier
chapter in ones own life.
Every experience is a chapter. Some chapters speak of friends and
family, some speak of the most horrible fears and the most dreamed about
hopes, and some tell of Love and Loss that the author experienced.
Some chapters are not finished and will be completed at a later time.
Some chapters are blurred, because not even the author knows what
happened, or what he wishes would happen. And some chapters are blank
pages, waiting to be filled. More than once, the author has wished he could
go back a few pages and rewrite it differently, but alas, the book has already
been published, and cannot be changed.
As the book ages, it loses some of its shine, pages tear and fade, and...