People are like books. There are some you would want to hold on to for the rest of your life, some that you could not afford to finish reading because of consequent disinterest, some that you would want to read over and over and just doesn’t seem to get boring. In every person is a whole lot of story, which then would explain the maxim, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Fair enough, right? Until one has picked up a book and read from beginning thru end, one cannot be certain with the conclusion it holds.
Now in all the hundreds and thousands of books that you will come across in your entire life, there are bound to be some that would stand out, some that would be forgotten, and some that would be left behind. As it is, we have to move on from one book to the next. With people, it is an inevitable phenomenon to be fleeting creatures, in constant search for new experiences, new sensations. There is, after all, only one life that we are given to live.
To find that one book amongst a ton of others—that book that you will hold dear for the rest of your life—it is something so rare; it’s almost like a miracle. This does not stop a person from searching still among other books. But in the end, nothing else surpasses the book that has touched you in a way that is different than any other.
It is a privilege that people be given the chance to be with other people, get to know each other, and finally decide if it is a relationship they would like to keep or not. There are some that would not welcome you into their life—like an old, tattered book with pages stuck together that you’d have to be extra careful when leafing through its pages—but if you have chosen to come in, or more appropriately, barge into their lives, there are endless ways so you will be accepted. With people, and books, it really is a matter of choice.