“We are libraries.” I can still remember the words as if he said them yesterday. I can remember the calmness in his voice, and the way his shoulders would curve when he began to speak. He didn’t seem to realize what he had said, they were just words that had sprung up in his head and fallen out of his mouth, he fell of topic and rambled on about something else, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I continued to think about what he had said, “we are all libraries.” What does that even mean?
There years have passed since these words were said to me and only now do I truly understand the beauty of them. We aren’t just one story, a couple of pages and chapters sewn in between two hard-covers, we aren’t just one book, we are libraries. There are so many different parts to the person that we are, millions of patters, colors, sounds, tastes, passions, and stories that take place within us and all around us. We are made up of hundreds of beautiful love stories and even more stories of heartbreak and loss. Trials and tribulations that we endure, fiery hoops that we must jump through, dragons that we must slay, people that we save, people that save us… And we do all of this to have a happy ending, that can mean many different things; happiness, a sense of belonging, a special mark that we get to leave behind once we are no longer here, a goal that is achieved. Now, the question arises… Do we? Do we achieve our goals? Our happy endings? Only one person can decide that, and that person is ourselves. We are the authors to our books, nobody else. We decide what sort of ending we want, we decide the legacy we leave behind. We are more than just one book, we are entire libraries, and WE are the writers.