My first book from my elder sister when I was 9 years old found its way to remind me of an important life lesson.
I never thought much about it – whether the title was her subtle attempt of telling me to tone down my dramatic, emotional self; whether the divorce of the writer’s parents was a hint that it was going to happen to us (which it didn’t); or whether it was just what it was – a book.
It was 2 decades later, when I was struggling to keep my mental health in check, that I came across this book again in a dusty cardboard box during a move.
“It’s not the end of the world.”
Unknown to my sister nor I, the title itself reminded me that as long as I was still here, knowing what my goals were, there was still a fighting chance of fulfilling them and overcoming the challenges that stood in my way.
The world can be infinite, encompassing continents, the skies, and other galaxies yet to be explored by mankind.
Yet, the world can also be as simple as what was closest to my heart – my family and friends. Nor without me in it, their world would be entirely different too.
I may have been struggling with the daily motions of life – but as long as my family and friends were there – they were my world, and my world had not yet ended.
I guess sometimes, the universe sends you messages in a way you least expect it. Whether or not this is pure coincidence, or some sort of supernatural power at work, one thing is certain – this was a message I needed at the right moment of my life.