Life and Stories.

The realization that every random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own, populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness, an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an ant hill sprawling deep underground with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll know existed, in which you might appear only once as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of passing traffic on the highway, or as a lighted window at dusk.

Life is full of stories, some are worth telling, some are worth reminiscing and smiling foolishly to yourself while some are worth to be closed and locked in a chest, treasured or despised, and the key destroyed forever. But still don’t you think, its always these stories that make it worth breathing everytime?

A monotonous life becomes repugnant after a point of time; while for some it could since as long as they could remember while for some it could be a realization after a lifetime has passed. I, for once have always loathed the monotonicity of life. I was attracted to sports, loved traveling and even though my body was adamant towards restricting my share of fun to certain limits, my parents encouraged me, an asthmatic, to play football in heavy rains when all the other perfectly healthy peers of mine were asked to stay put on the other side of the grill.

I have a lot of such stories where I have lived off the edge of life onCREATE_A_BETTER_STORY-300x219 sheer will, when I have been bullied shattering my self-confidence to pieces, when we shifted and accepted a new life, a better life, those debates with grand dad, understanding the stress my father went through at work, and the moment I found myself and losing him again. I have been an intrepid,, obnoxious to some, mesmerizing to others and callow to myself and highly insecure to my best friend. I have been judged doing what others don’t deem fit according to the “norms” of this society but I’ll say- “I have lived”, and I have created, written, re-written, forced to re-write and constantly searching for new stories.

Look into the mirror and see the picture of how life would look like 15 years from now, burdened with responsibilities and still without a single story to narrate, or to just sit quietly and smile as you reminisce. Life and stories are reflections of each other, so now choice is yours – dance in the rain, or stay safe; be the story teller or the listener?

Thank you :)

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