Writing takes me to nooks and corners I’ve never been before, and yet, I am unable to escape myself. The characters I paint are as I see them. I wonder if I will be forgiven to change their reality to suit me perspective.
Cutting it short, here’s the prompt for this week.
Nobody remembers yesterday. They say they do, every word, every look, every hurt and pain and betrayal, but they don’t. By tomorrow, the words and looks and hurts are fairy tales in the created life of every man, woman and child who has, or will, ever live.
But, in truth, these aren’t their tales. Thing change and evolve, words and memories and actions, until the who we are in life is the who we become in our stories.
But no, that’s not right. In a perfect world, yes, we would be one and the same, but not now, not today or tomorrow or yesterday in the real world we call Modern.
No matter how many tales you tell, how many fantasies you weave, in the end the only person you can see is yourself. ‘Heaven or hell, love or Hate.’ You only find yourself.