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…

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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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