My phone is dead

“People I meet… the effect upon me of my early life… of the ward and city I live in… of the nation, the latest news… discoveries, inventions, societies… authors old and new, my dinner, dress, associates, looks, business, compliments, dues, the real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love, the sickness of one of my folks–or of myself… or ill-doing… or loss or lack of money… or depressions or exaltations, they come to me days and nights and from me again, but they are not the Me myself” (Whitman 6).

This and one other passage, I hold most dear to me. As my other favorite author, Chuck Palahniuk, would say, “Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of effort of everybody I’ve ever known” (Invisible Monsters).
A perfect example of coincidence and destiny weaving itself into my daily life is when I found The Way to Happiness: A Common Sense Guide To Better Living. There is no author listed. It just seems to be a guide; I found it waiting for me at the top of the trash can at a organic juice store. Normally, I would never, EVER reach into a trash bin, let alone look inside one, but this book was calling to me, and there was no trash on top of it. So I let my hope in fate take over my fear of germs, and I reached into grab it. I open it to the first article. The title of this passage has to do with giving: “Why I Gave This Book To You (Happiness 3).” I keep reading “Your survival is important to me (Happiness 3).” Boom! The first passage is over, and my stomach starts churning, a mix between excitement and nerves. The guide says the first step to happiness is to give this book away to someone else, even before one reads it. I stuff it in my purse, selfishly, and I think to myself, “Karma can wait; it’s my turn to be happy.”
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