“What I’ve learned is that everyone has a story. It’s just up to us to open ourselves up and get past the surface.”
What is it about strangers that make us compelled to open up and share our stories?
“Simple pleasures,” Carla said. “That is what life is all about.”
Let’s take a moment to love the strangers who go out of their way to make our days a little better by doing these tiny, random acts of kindness.
“I appreciate the female body.”
Letting the poison slither down your esophagus like a snake, clouding your senses, taking you to nirvana, was all you really needed.
That raw display of emotion makes me so incredibly uncomfortable that I automatically reject even the idea of crying in front of people I know; If I’m alone, then I’m the only one who has to deal with (and/or judge) the big soggy mess I become when I cry.
11. Fresh air heals a lot of pains.
When I began writing a short while later, I would watch and make up stories about people based off my observations. You are different. I don’t want to write your story. I want to KNOW your story. I bet you have lots to tell.
Someone with hopes and disappointments — someone who’s more than just a face among faces in a crowd, to someone they are the face sought out amidst the blur of others.