Storytelling

I have never been part of drama. Never started a fight. Never been bullied. Never had to stand up for myself. As a child, I floated among my friends without stirring the waters. I was not hated nor abused, and liked just enough to get by. Sometimes, I became the wallflower, existing as a warm, bodily presence, but only barely. I would take a whole scene in-- the flirting, the banters, the laughter-- and feel like an omniscient being-- a third person narrator. That was how I remembered the people of my childhood. While others forgot the girl in their summer camp, or that kid who owned a reptile, I remembered. 

Rewinding my mental clock, I've noticed a pattern: 

I was so busy narrating everyone else's stories that I forgot to write my own. I have a general summary of my past stages. Give me a year, and I can list my teacher, closest friends, schedule, personality, hobbies. But rarely will I have story-- an event, to define it. At least not of my own doing. My stories are either meshed with my friends' drama, my parents' fights. Or, as I grew older, my musical accomplishments, dedication, ambition. Those crushes remained just that, those opportunities flew away due to fear, and I was left waiting. For something to snap. For my life to really begin.

 Now, at college, life has begun in so many ways. Yet, make me tell a story, and I do not have one. Does the one about a newly wed borrowing my bike count? Movie nights with the roomies? Hours studying for an exam that consumes my being? 

At this point, I do not know what counts as a noteworthy story. Something that serves as a defining point in my life? Maybe I am made of multiple, minute stories, entwined together. Maybe I am in a developing story with a mystery ending. Maybe the best stories have yet to be opened. 

We are all compilations of mismatched stories, mosaics of our lives. They define a part of us, but not all. We are also what could be. We are everything that we strive for, yearn for, and will be. It's okay to not know where to start. To wish you could delete that whole passage. Or add a couple of lines.

It's okay to feel like your story is not worth reading; to guard it from others lest they snatch it away; to tuck the story in your pocket, for now, fully aware of potential revisions. 

And, most importantly, it's great to retrieve a fresh, blank page and start another story. To create new characters as you go. 

Eventually, someone will want to swap with you. To read your words meticulously as you examine theirs. So don't be afraid of the plot twists, suspense, missed metaphors. Stories are never complete or perfect entities. 

Here are pieces of my stories. What are yours?

Falling too early

I have a problem with falling for guys too early.  Before I have had a full conversation with him, learned his favorite color, music tastes, food aversions, I am imagining him as a boyfriend, or worse, a husband. Such extremity in feelings is dangerous for the weak hearts. It causes us to feel too much for a shadow, and cry in excess over the end of nothing. The reason for this tendency is not low standards. I would consider myself to have rather high standards in romantic relationships- not just in the guy himself but also in his mutual affection for me. I think the cause is over-imagination. A projection of my woeful thinking onto him. Upon one glance into his intelligent eyes, I am conjuring up my own impression of this person, my caricature of him, my story. And it has nothing to do with him, really (besides that he's a great catch). It all stems from my subconscious desire to love. 

I try to deny it. No one wants to admit dissatisfaction. No one dares to admit a foolish craving. No one wants to want something so untamed. 

Some days are better than others. I usually block it out with other goals- remind myself of what's important: friends, family, school work, self-improvement. I try to make myself feel worthy of love by being the best version of me. And I remind myself that love comes when you least expect it, so I should stop being so damn expectant.
Other days, I indulge in the thirst, and soak in the artificial feelings of love created by music. Today was of the former. I couldn't help but glance everywhere for "him". But instead of wasting my time on youtube advice videos and sappy music, I decided to write this post. I would not dare share these thoughts with many people; and I think few have shared them with me. We all strive for an aura of "having our shit together", but really none of us do, or ever will.

We all wish we were not so vulnerable.

It's okay not to feel content. Like Billy Joel said, "Only fools are satisfied". But do not let negative thoughts consume you. It is important to be truly grateful for what we have, not just on Thanksgiving, but every day. I am grateful for the opportunities on my campus, the beautiful autumn leaves, my lovely roommates, my ever-supportive parents.

Remember to appreciate the important people who are already in your life. Wasting energy on a guy we barely know not only undermines your value, but also that of those who really care about you.

When you start falling too soon, remind yourself that he is not the solution to your problems. The loneliness stems from a deeper problem, often a lack of passion and personal satisfaction in your life. While you're pinpointing the root-cause, remember to take a moment and just appreciate where you are right now. Smell the fresh air, the wind in your hair, the sun warming your skin, and start loving it all.
Start falling for life.