I just finished watching "One Day", the newest addition to my list of timeless films, songs, books, and even memories. This is a hell of a statement for what would be simply dismissed by many as just another mediocre love story, but isn't that just it? Are any of us truly so special that our life and love experiences, whether successes or failures, both pleasurable and painful, aren't really just easily dismissible stories to others but ever so much more to us, that they shape us, move us, transform us, challenge us to learn and feel, to hate and hurt then love and try again?
We are none of us unique in these regards, yet each emotion may be uniquely felt and, if we're lucky, shared. And for every vacant, worthless, seemingly endless moment of loss and despair, there's another moment of surprising, fulfilling, unexpectedly eternal joy and gain. If there wasn't, we would stop living, for our bodies are natural, our responses automatic and self-providing, and our minds could not continue if they knew this wasn't a fact of life, a reality.
I woke up this morning, and so did you. So there must be something worth living for, bad or good, as we hope for the good and learn from the bad. There must be something to this life, at once unique and common, for all of us.
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