Stories

It’s all just stories. You listen to the news and read books and recount episodes of your life and even if they are as good as best-selling Hollywood movies it’s all just stories. The story of the fall of man and the rise of women and the colonisation of the solar system. Stories, stories, stories.

Here’s something else, though: my life is not only lived on the outside. There are things within me that will never be your story. When I share with you I do so only at a superficial level. Heck, I don’t even know the depths of me myself so how could I even start to tell you. That said, I know this: I will know all of me before I’m done.

I don’t know how, but I will find every single part of me and drag it out into the light. I will be known from start to finish, from inside to out and … the whole of whatever other dimension you can think of. Maybe it’ll be through the wonders of future technology, perhaps by drugs and possibly even through transcendental meditation. Either way around; I’m going to find me.

Being the caring, sharing kind of guy I am, I’ll probably not be able to keep me to myself. I don’t know what the next level of blogging/vlogging/elogging/flogging is going to be like but I’m going to be on it. I trust. I am open. Heck, I don’t even delete my browser history at the end of a session. If it comes to uploading me to the internet, I’ll be the first, or possibly the second in line.

Life is stories. I have a story. I am a story. I am the sum total of all I’ve done, seen and experienced. I have all my own teeth, apart from the one wisdom tooth that never grew. I wish that we could grow new teeth, though. I woke up this morning and didn’t particularly want to get out of bed but I did. It was 7:47am, which was a bit late for me, but that’s okay; I know it’s just a story.