What happened to trying to write a post every week? I don't know.
I am bad at doing things like this. Trying to do something on a schedule. Maybe my mind doesn't work like that. Or I am just not the right human being.
I knew what I wanted to say, when I started writing this post. But I am not sure anymore.
What is worth telling other people? Why is it worth to be told?
Why are some stories written down in books while others will be forgotten as soon as they die?
Why can't we remember everyone? How can there be a time limit to everything?
I don't want to think about it, if I am honest.
But the idea came when I read a review on goodreads about This star won't go out where the person who wrote the review says that it isn't fair that Esther Earls story is told, because she knew John Green and the story of somebody else will never be heard.
I am not sure if I agree with that.
I believe that Esther had (or in my opinion has great parents) that made her wish to become a writer true. And of course we can't tell anybodies story. It is really sad when you think about all the people that die every day that nobody will ever hear about.
But why should you blame the people whose story is told because their story is told?
Her friend was an author and that's why her story was published. Yes, it was.
But it is always like that. You always need connections to do things and often get what you want.
It sucks that society works like that, but you can't change it.
How could anybody say who deserves to be heard and who doesn't?
