Some people will never "get you." Try not to spend eternity asking why. Sometimes there is just no connection. No matter what you do, you wont find one. Some people will continue to see you differently. So, you must cherish those who lift your soul. And while you are at it, surround yourself with people who lift you higher. There are always a few, you are just not looking around because you are concentrating too much on the people who will never "get you." The world is already filled with the people who want to bring you down.

The most courageous decision you will ever make is to finally let go of whatever is hurting your heart and soul. Make it. Now is the time. Some things are heavy. You must let them go. It is not your burden to bear.

If someone wants you in their life, they'll make room for you. You shouldn't have to fight for a spot. Never, ever insist yourself to someone who continuously overlooks your worth. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls. Do not be one of those people. It's time to start living the life you always dreamed about.

This is literally a garage turned into a coffee shop. Unpaved floor, raw walls, peeled bricks, and a rotting, what once was, a fireplace. It even has its garage door in tact that they roll up in the summers. It's metal panes are replaced with glass so that we can see outside during the winters. Different coffee equipments line one wall, and vintage wooden furniture fills in the empty space in the middle. A shelf in the far corner has old vintage cameras lined on it. Perhaps the owner of the shop is fond of photography too. The couches on the far end by the brick wall are the oldest and the comfiest couches I have ever sat on. But I don't sit on the couches very often. Like a cat, I prefer sitting in the far corner of the shop with my back against the wall, the garage door to my side, and the entire coffee shop to my front.

There is an old map on the wall by the restroom, which looks like the map of South America? How in the world does South America fit into this picture? Oh, coffee beans. Right.

As I sip my beautifully crafted cappuccino, a man and a woman enter the shop holding hands, and a story begin to form in my head.   A story waiting to be told, right there.

Writers cannot mind their own business. We live for this kind of adventure. Everything is a story. Everything is worth exploring. Every. Single. Damn. Thing. Can you imagine having so much in your head? Not being able to control making stories out of everything? Seeing meaning behind every single piece of crap you lay your eyes on. Dissecting every relationship, carving out every face your memory can conjure. No wonder we are crazy.  Writers cannot be loyal to anything else but their art. There were so many times I was offered to write for money, but I couldn't do it. It felt as if I was cheating on my lover. Writing is not a job or a career. Authors are not made, they are born. Writers are crazy. The better the writer, the crazier she is. People develop a fascination with a writer they like. But you don't want to really get to know a writer. You can't really know a writer. Because a writer is not one  person.

Ironically, I look up and accidentally glance at the black and white banner by the counter, with the famous Steve Jobs quote: "Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs, the square holes, the ones who see things differently...."

It's been snowing since the new year's day, and now we are perpetually covered under a thick blanket of white fluff, which will soon turn into ice, and we'll break some bones at some point or another. Any hopes of spring are completely crushed, and most people are just snowed in, hiding in their houses. But not me, when people go in, I come out.

As I make my way through the porch and into the street, I feel the silence. This street, these houses are never as quiet as they are tonight. It is as if everything has just stopped for a moment. The air, the leaves, the birds, the crickets, and other bugs, and most surprisingly, the people. I walk by the same houses I walk by all the time, mostly peeking in - looking at women cooking in the kitchen and kids watching TV in the lounge - but tonight it seems as if there is no one behind these walls; as if everyone is either asleep or sitting quietly respecting this transformation of the season, and bowing down to the laws of nature - or perhaps they are all in as much awe as I am.

I suppose that's the whole point of the snow: it pauses everything. When it falls, take a breath, and then hold that breath to marvel at it's beauty; to acknowledge it's power. I suppose this is nature's way to tell us to calm down, to breathe, to reflect, to just pause, even if for a moment, but to just slow down. My, oh my. What a miracle this snow is.

I only slept till 12:30pm today. Sometimes you think that if you sleep on something it might make more sense to you. But you are even more disoriented when you wake up. Even though I slept so much longer than normal I feel like I haven't slept at all. It's terrible.

I stayed in bed for another hour before I finally got up. Hunger was to blame for it, or I probably would have stayed under the covers for the rest of the day. After washing my face and grabbing last night's leftover wings, I opened the curtains of my room and the bright sunshine welcomed me. I am usually not a fan of the sun and I haven't seen it in a while because of the recent blizzard, but somehow it is pleasant to have that bright yellow ball back in my life.

And something absolutely wonderful arrived in the mail today - an old book, with a note that said, "I know I haven't been great to you in the past and I am willing to take the blame for everything but I totally blame you for putting me to read for leisure. I would have never found all these hidden treasures if it weren't for you. Thank you."

And just when you think that you are no good, that you might never make anyone happy, that no one might need you anymore, someone out there, somehow reminds you that you are still capable of making a difference.

We just have to hold on to that belief. Because YOU are capable of making a difference, and YOU are special.