Parts.

It’s an interesting thing really. Parts. We’re all made up of parts, like pieces to a puzzle, only not quite. You see, the thing is that we pick up these parts and that’s who we are. You have to see the logic in this. Just follow me for a while.

When we’re born, we’re one part. Just one whole part, but not a complete part. We’re not complete yet, because, frankly we haven’t started living. We’re more like one big untainted, yet whole part.

But then we grow.

As we grow we start on adding parts to our whole parts. We pick up parts from every moment of our lives. Every person who meant or didn’t mean something to us. Every smile, ever touch, every conversation. They add to our parts. They become our parts. This is how we grow see? Then, we’re many parts. But the thing is, not all the parts are ours. It’s strange because they are with us but they aren’t all ours.

And here’s the other thing, if I’m a part, is there one part out there made just for me? The soul mate theory, as some like to call it. But only The Romantics like that. Most people have given up on that, it’s all too futile and much too painful to wait around for. And frankly, it hasn’t done much to prove itself.

Or is it because we grow and have so many parts that this theory just doesn’t work?

Anyway, back to parts. Some parts are parts we treasure. Those parts of us that make other people smile. And then there are parts we try to throw away.

That’s how we change.

With the parts of us we throw away.

Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we throw away parts we should have kept. That’s how you get your drug addled souls. Because they threw a part they should have kept. Of course, sometimes we’re just born with diseased parts. But that’s rarely the case.

So you have to question yourself then, which part do I keep? Which do I throw? What if I just keep them all and take it from there? How do I know I’m making the right decision?

Well see, those are the choices we’re allowed to make. That’s what keeps each part different from another. That’s what defines us.

And in the end, that’s what matters really. Not the parts we were made with. Not that. But the parts that we kept and the parts that we threw away. They make us, well us. And in the end, when you die, that’s all you’re remembered for, on this earthly world.

The parts you threw. And the parts you chose to keep.

A/N: I know this resembles the crazed ramblings of a hobo who has taken one too many hits to the head (and on some level I think it was meant to). But still, do tell me what you think.

Oh and Happy New Year everyone!