Hello. It's Day Eighteen!
I don't buy that people are like books. We aren't an assemblage of chapters or an assortment of short stories for someone to decipher. I think all of us are movies. There's one, and it's final. The only difference is some people can afford an interim, while most slog off into oblivion. Probably that's why we enjoy movies. Probably, that's also why we enjoy seeing other people pass through their lives, liking some, hating some. And while we're busy appreciating someone else's movie, we often forget that we don't have to be wary of ourselves while we admire others. It's in that transition of forgetting to love yourself, we leave track of our own fables. And we forget that the little things aren't so little. Sometimes we dispossess our sense of control from one take to another. But, just like in the films when there's a pause of change taking place, where you don't know what's going to hit you next, that's where the universe is panning things out for you. That lull of a few minutes between ending and beginning, that's where you really are alive. Watch out for the next one.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.