I had coffee with a new friend this morning. She had read my book and wanted to discuss it. I wasn't really sure what the questions she was going to have would look like, but 8am on a Sunday, coffee in hand we went outside to talk.
She wanted to talk about character motivations, their emotions, how they got to their mindsets. Things I don't think I even considered while writing. She wanted to share parts that hit her soul, things she's thought about for her own life because of words that I wrote. She wanted further insights into loving herself because that's something she struggles with. We talked about love being the core of happiness and what that looks like in practice.
This needs to be remembered. Because sometimes I forget. I wrote a book. I crafted a story that helps people remember who they are, stripped down at their core. It makes them think about their lives and how they love, and where their happiness lies. It makes them remember and process emotions that closed them off at some point, and opens them back up to living in the moment.
I did that.
I made a difference. I make a difference. I am alive, and I have made the world a better place because I was alive.