If everyone's life was written down and kept in a book, the worlds library would have no one story be the same, and yet we would still see similarities between the different categories.
Some would be laced with nothing but tragedies, the kind of stories where it's one bad occurrence after another, with the stories only ending being peace, the kind of peace that comes from someone anticipating the end.
Some stories would be an adventure from start to finish. The tales where they find the most amazing sights and meet the most amazing people. These stories don't always include happy themes, or have a conclusion worth being written down, and yet they are, because it was an adventure to them.
Then there are the kind of stories that most people wouldn't experience. The ones where the pages are filled with happiness so bright it makes the book shine, even in a sea of others. The words seem to float along the pages as they tell a tale most people only dream about.
The funny thing about these stories, is they are the most attainable. Most people could have stories with endless laughter and smiles, the kind of stories that make you feel warm when it's cold out, or full when your craving bliss. Most people could, and yet they don't. Because despite where your chapter one starts you off, you will come to a page where it's blank, and you can make your own decisions, create the page, and write the words that fit your story, and yet so many people choose to believe the blank pages signify the end. That they cannot have a happy ending because their beginning was already set in motion. If more people believed in themselves and worked harder to achieve something truly magical, the library of the world could be filled with fairytales amongst fairytales, and yet, too often than not, books are placed among the shelves labeled tragedy only to be lost among the vast sea of others. Forgotten.