Each and every one of us has our own autobiography written on our minds. The only borderline between Anne Frank and you (or I) is we don’t have the little red diary from our fathers. But we are all the same. We have our frustrations, our dreams, and our weirdest imaginations – and even our mind-made alias for people we know. There should never be an issue of who set the greatest record or who gets to be written on Encyclopedias or who should occupy the next big room at the World Museum. The only issue that should be talked about by human beings, by us, is if we are having a worthwhile stay here on earth.
People are never contented. That is a bitter fact we considered as a part of our being. But it is also the sweetest drug that pushes us to what we aspire – to what we dream. This sweetest drug guides us to a path where we can say we are alive and happy. It’s just a matter of taking it or just settle for something you know you can never grow – never learn from. It’s not an ambition; it’s surviving the challenge. Those people who settle for the least prey gets nothing. Those who wander deep down to the woods get the greatest catch – certainly a worth while catch for the night. In one way or another, along the path inside the woods we might encounter creepy creatures that might hurt us but nothing beats a determined heart that knows the best cure to every pain. Even the most incredible man-made trap can never catch a hunter who is determined and who has a faith. And when the hunter or huntress gets their greatest catch for the night, they’ll go back to their cabin - a cabin where both of them can feel the happiness that is destined for each and every human being.
It is in the silence of our hearts (broken or not) where we can find happiness. Happiness was given to us before we ever learned to talk, walk, or fall in love. But like any talent or like any skill, it needs a brave heart to know its existing deep within us. If you think you found that happiness, then you’ll also find the person or the people you can share this happiness with.
You pass a bunch of people in a day--people in their cars, in the grocery store, waiting for their coffee at an espresso stand. You look at apartment buildings and streets, the comings and goings, elevators crawling up and down, and each person has their own story going on right then, with its cast of characters; they've got their own frustrations and their happiness and the things they're looking forward to and dreading. And sometimes you wonder if you've crossed paths with any of them before without knowing it, or will one day cross their path again. But sometimes, too, you have this little feeling of knowing, this fuzzy, gnawing sense that someone will become a major something in your life. You just know that theirs will be a life you will enter and become part of.
