Always a Story

The weight of explaining to someone how you’ve changed. They stare in expectation, knowing, wanting, waiting for your story, because there is always a story. To sum a lifetime of nuanced actions, reactions, insults, injuries, scars, starts, start-overs, endings, renderings of every you from every time and the culmination of every life you’ve lived in your lifetime of living… the thought feels a forgery. The question puts words in out mouths and minds as gospel, but we will change again, and those words turn false from hymnal…

This entry was posted in between the lines, exposed, introspective, of the heart, original, pages, prose, restless, stories, story, zen and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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