misfrith

Ever since I was a child, I always believed that the world was made up of stories. Happy stories. Sad stories. Stories that make you angry. And stories that filled one's mind with wonder. Everything and everyone has a story - that was what made the world so beautiful. It filled my mind with glee and made me look forward to every waking moment. I would think, "I wonder what story I'll see today? What part would I play in it?" But one day, I discovered I couldn't see them anymore. The stories that I used to see everywhere around me suddenly disappeared. And this frightened me. But what frightened me the most was when I finally understood why. My fixation on other stories has led me to neglect my own. So focused was I in playing my part in other people's stories, that I have come to neglect to play my part in mine. My own stories... and my own heart. And now those many, many stories I kept hidden inside have turned into a massive black fog that obscured the world from my eyes. The stories I have kept locked away in my heart have turned into my demons. And they are screaming. Stories have to be told. And so here I am telling mine, the world I see through my own eyes and not from others. And perhaps someday, I can finally see the world filled with stories once more.