I have finished the second book of the night. I intend to start a third.
The second book in question happens to be The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. It was good, but it took warming up to. I don't know if it was too close to me, too overdone, or too much of anything.
Right now I'm not sure if this voracious reading is entertainment or escape.
The thing is, The Five People You Meet in Heaven is more or less a book about fate. About how you are always affecting others and lives are always entwined with one another.
And I think, now:
If my parents had not come to school here, I would not be writing in English. I might not even exist. Was it fate?
If we hadn't moved when I was five, I might have gone to my friend's current school and thus met her and possibly all my other friends. Was it fate?
If I hadn't known so many of the people I do, I would not be this person. I could be someone far different. Were all of my encounters fate?
Fate has played a massive role in my life, I think. Fate and chance. My life sometimes feels as if it's on an edge, or a dartboard. Something random. I don't understand it.
I don't get how some people I meet seem to be like fictional characters. I don't grasp how I can have two languages and almost two lives. I don't see how I - me! - got the chance to be this way.
Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it.
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