Storyteller29's profile

It is the blessing, and perhaps the curse, of the storyteller to wonder about the lives of every single person; be they a rich woman or a homeless man, a single father or a happy family. How did they get to where they are today? What were their successes, and what were their failures? Did they earn their money, did they win it, or is there just not enough to get by?

    Unfortunately, writers sometimes get so wrapped up in the tales of others that they forget to take notice of their own. Most of the time, it is easier to drown in the problems or peace of someone else’s life, than to face the trials or even triumphs in theirs.

    So while I sit and ponder where I am, exactly, and just where I’ll be going, it’s hard to fight the urg…

It is the blessing, and perhaps the curse, of the storyteller to wonder about the lives of every single person; be they a rich woman or a homeless man, a single father or a happy family. How did they get to where they are today? What were their successes, and what were their failures? Did they earn their money, did they win it, or is there just not enough to get by?

    Unfortunately, writers sometimes get so wrapped up in the tales of others that they forget to take notice of their own. Most of the time, it is easier to drown in the problems or peace of someone else’s life, than to face the trials or even triumphs in theirs.

    So while I sit and ponder where I am, exactly, and just where I’ll be going, it’s hard to fight the urge to imagine my way into someone else’s life rather than take the time to organize my own.

    We’ve graduated, and it has finally hit me that everything is changing, and no amount of imagination or make-believe is going to bring yesterday back. I understand that. What I don’t quite understand though, is how to continue on this journey that I’ve begun.

    Twenty-four hours ago I read two letters. They spoke about friendships, one that ended abruptly, a couple that hung around, and a few that just faded away. They spoke of morals, promises, and they showed a path of growth that has been lost to everyone along the way. Because I’ve realized that while it’s happening to you, growing up is just another thing—mixed up in a blur of dances and dates, arguments and tears. And then, before you know it, that growing up time is gone, lost to hands of time, never to be regained again. Those letters were written by me, three and five years ago. Oh, how times have changed.

    It’s useless to wish that things would stay the same, same routine, same thing day in and day out, because that would be pointless, and above all, boring. The time comes when all people, regardless of their past, their passions, and even their failures, must take that step toward change, no matter how hard it may seem, no matter how scary the fall.

    It is the blessing, and perhaps the curse, of the storyteller to be objective. To see people as they are, eventually, and to face the ultimate choice of standing up or laying down in front of conflict. I haven’t quite had experience enough to build up the strength needed for the former, but I firmly believe that the latter is behind me, and beneath me. Always stand up for what you believe in. It is important to have an open mind foremost before opening your mouth, to think before speaking (which I learned the hard way) and to forgive, if not always choosing to forget.

    This is a defining moment in our lives. How we choose to define ourselves, however, lies within us; in our everyday lives, in our morals, in the people we choose for friends, and in our hearts.

    Tomorrow, who knows who I’ll be? I could be a star, I could be a millionaire, a mother, a teacher. I could be anyone I want to be. The key to happiness lies not in the amount of money you make (though it is nice) but in how much you like your job, your surroundings, and yourself. So good luck to you, and good luck to me, and remember this: create, inspire, change the world, because we are the future.