What is my story? Did you come here to listen to an anecdote or will you lend me your attentive ears to understand and cradle my tale with gentle hands that touch the essence of your being? Will each string of words land upon your frame and find their way to your heart?
I often wonder what motivates us to share fragments of who we are while others peer into our once private life. I wonder how that shared information will be harbored or disintegrated into mere words aimlessly blowing in the wind, unparalleled with the sentiment that it was once coupled with. I wonder... the significance of my story upon the ears of others and I arrive to a partial conclusion that in sharing all of me others will have only grasped a minut shell of who I am.
I do not fear your lips incessant fabrication of me... I only know that your lens failed to peer closer into mine as I tried to connect with you. I know that every story that has landed upon my ears was seeking refuge, shelter, a haven upon my soul. The energy that cascaded off the chest of each orator moved like a waterfall, in stages of highs and lows, carving their energy into the fibrils of my heart. Each story became part of my narrative heart. Each one a 2nd hand lesson gifted to help shape the woman I desire to become. Thank you for choosing me to be your safe spill of what consumed your heart.
What is my story? My story is in every verse etched across these pages, do you know me yet? Am I captured in the letters that frame my narrative? Does my photo depict my character so that now you feel I can hold your hand and set trust upon your heart? Please do not compartmentalize all the parts that make me whole; do not pigeonhole me... allow me to evolve in your space and mine. My purpose here is only to find your voice and mine.
Thank you, once again, to everyone that continues to share their heart with me for all we are ever trying to do is connect to ourselves and that journey we are on. Sometimes the discovery leads us to weave through one another.