Every day we walk past countless faces-- each with their own story. And if somehow by chance we do get to interact, we're altering bits and pieces of our narratives. In essence, we co-write pages of each other's choose-your-own-adventure books (Don't turn to page 84. Trust me.)
The paragraphs that I leave aren't always the most glamorous excerpts and my good intentions don't always come to fruition. I am irresponsible, self-centered, and there's no one else to blame for this other than myself. The worst part is that the ink that we're writing with is permanent-- they're still there even if you try to cross them out and cover them up.
In the end, the pages keep turning but they're limited in number. I just hope that the amount of good parts outweigh the bad.
One way or another...
Baby, I'm living in color.
