Anyone can write a book. Life in itself is a novel. Each day scribes another page in the tome, putting a moment to rest in folds of warm parchment. Despite the beauty of this story, no book is flawless. Each one has its various tears, bumps, cracks, and weaknesses. Every book is tattered; covers lie threadbare, and pages lie shredded by life's cruel malice. You can't judge someone until you have pored over the pages and felt each tear rip into your soul, until each crack creates a chasm in your being. Before you pass judgment, you must first pass through one's life.

In a world of seven billion people of every color, race, creed, and background, there are billions of stories that are being published in people's hearts. From the few battered entries, stained with tears and blood, to the elegant pages written with the sweeping calligraphy of a sweet memory, each book is a unique work of art. And yet, people don't always like showing their stories to the world. Many will hold their novels close, hiding them in the deepest shadows of their consciences. A smile hides the agony of a family falling to pieces. Sleeves cover the physical reminder of another book slammed shut. Eyes glowing with false joy draw attention away from a heart left shattered.

It is important to be a well-read individual. If one allows you the privilege of reading their story, do it. If not, don't judge them or assume you know who they really are. You cannot understand them until you walk a mile in their shoes or turn the final page of their heart's diary. Feel the worn pages and allow the ink to seep into your soul. Read, understand, sympathize. And, most importantly, write your own story. No matter how weather-beaten the pages may be, every novel is worth reading.