This mess is dismissed
This mess is dismissed

I've washed myself clean of it
As though it didn't exist

It's foul and negative energy
Shall not be missed

So mote it be
I am done with all this

Books, coincidences, and a touch of destiny.

what if all this time, when we thought we were picking out books to read-- it was really the books deciding that we were worthy of reading them? that they chose us?

I'm pretty sure there are a few books I've collected that were looking for me, the moments I met them were too peculiar and special to be happenstance And anyways, we all know I don't believe in coincidences, everything has a purpose and meaning-- we just don't know it all yet, and maybe never will. but there was a reason somewhere buried in the tapestry of life for each and every thing that happens.