No matter our age, we have stories. The truth and legend that created us. There is more to all of us than meets the eye.
If we are so old we can no longer make sense or so young we cannot yet form the language of others, the stories belong to us. We own almost nothing in this life except for our stories.
My stories jump for joy. Some of them writhe in pain. Only I know one from the other. Unless, that is, if I share them.
Sharing our stories is a blessing and a curse. Sometimes they are a way to share and thus divide the pain of horrors or fears. Others, when shared, are blessings to those who hear them. At times, our stories burden others.
Often in the sharing, others come to share their stories with us. The sweetness of that trust is a treasure beyond compare.
But there are those stories that only we will ever know. Those tales are most often buried deeply. Sometimes, we don't even know they exist until some demon wakes the sleeping giant. Like a fable, there is a lesson to be learned, but only if we find the courage to open the curtain and release the demon.
We all want to know the truth and none of us wants to die with regrets. The only way to create that life is to live it. The story is yours and only yours; until you share it.
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