The Narrative

 

Photo credit: Scott Cain "Winter Light in the Trees"  


Inspired by Sher at www.unboundliving.net

We all have a story. What we do with that story makes a difference to the outcome of what we believe about ourselves. 


I have leveraged some of my most significant mistakes to unlock the best parts of myself, and love the parts I hid in shame.


What will you do with your story?



In the dream, where I pretend to carry the story of my occhiolsm. I am a school boy running down a crowded hall. Miraculously this reoccurring theme no longer finds me in my underwear. However what awaits is a test I have yet to study for. The hard floor under the pit-pat of my feet echos with all the noise of a crowded passing period. The slamming metal lockers, is the only sound loud enough to break the din. talking, shouting, and laughing, I too am a ghost in the menagerie as I slues my way under a sea of greenish florescent lights. Clutching tightly against my chest my arm protecting the narrative. My fragile compilation a mess of loose papers, spiral note books, and images from art class. Itโ€™s a dangerous assembly in the china shop as I rush cavalierly through the crowded thicket


Close to my heart in handwriting not yet realized, there is spelling that almost resembles phonetic regurgitation. My words and schemes, woven from fantasy and dreams. On pages accompanied by permanent markings not of my own origin. Their briar of roses upon my papers, a porridge of sociopathic and empathic friendly hellos alike. Is a sea of red corrections, that cut through the love poetry nobody wanted, and splash graffiti on those images searching for quiet. These stains only add color to a collection that yearns to be a book. My grand tome envisioned with cover coveted by children. It is all for anyone willing.


Catching my breath slinking into the room I glide into my desk. My pile shoved pellmell beneath me. If I am lucky, you will see in my hand and accept the page carefully folded for you. My note offered in exchange for a page of your story. No test matters more than the contents of these notes we willingly trade in assistance between our thread-work of friends.

Comments

  1. โฃ
    โฃ
    "๐˜๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ถ๐˜ฅ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ. " It's fascinating to me how our present mindset creates and projects the interpretation we want to see in someone else's story. Is the test of yourself? Life? Love? โฃ
    โฃ
    Presently, I am interpreting hope for acceptance, as I know it's an ongoing effort of my journey. โฃ
    โฃ
    "๐˜๐˜ง ๐˜ ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ ๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜บ, ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ. ๐˜”๐˜บ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฆ๐˜น๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜จ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ." โฃ
    โฃ
    Here's to the connections that inspire us to keep writing and vulnerably sharing our stories.๐Ÿฅ‚

    ReplyDelete
  2. For sure I ment a clear projection of self, but I hoped to leave enough room in my words for the reader to make themselves at home in their own way. Kind of like when you stage a home for sale, and take out some of your personal details to make room for a new owner to see the home as their own. As for the "test" it is a reference to many things relating to me and my mindset. Including Death, (my fathers passing fresh on my mind), Anxiety regarding my day to day business and family, The weight of watching my children suffer the difficulties of school and education. When I started writing I some of my thoughts revolved around how I was having a reoccuring dream where I was missing assignments. In the story, a "test" tied up more loose ends in my mind.

    I like your projection of hope. It's a good fit. Not necessarily intended on my part, but subconsciously I think you see me through the weeds of myself. I am humbled. :)

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