I am a peculiar man and a funny man and a serious man, also one of those interesting introverts you’ll find in supermarkets looking at chicken breasts instead of looking at people. Maybe I am passionate about my chicken breasts, you’ll never know, or just a shy person walking by, thinking about what’s for dinner. Told you I was funny. After two glasses of wine, I tend to look people in the eyes and still see chicken breasts. What is it with me and chicken breasts in this writing? Oh, I am cooking tonight some burrittos, might as well be this phase.
Anyway, introvertion or how does the world calls it, is a series of worlds colliding in my life that made me the man I am today. Little bit of this and little bit of that, one with everything like a yoga instructor or a shawarma place nearby. But I always think and I like to think life is a series of moments that define you. Moments that make you feel, moments that make your actions and reactions be the human that you are. They made me a burritto of feelings. Oh, here it comes again…
We are all story-tellers of our moments of our lives. We carry in ourselves the stories of every emotion we’ve ever felt, even for that cookie on the highest drawer we could never reach. The stories of the times we are truly happy or sad or excited or disappointed, full of hope, loyal, courageous, amazing, awesome, cool or chill about it. Each story has an experience, a moment where we were overwhelmed by our feelings. These are the stories of the times when we understood how sometimes even the most expressive of people cannot find the words to describe their overwhelming emotions. I think I have that. And I am not speaking about food again, I am speaking about moments I see her near me. Sometimes, I gulp or I pause, searching for words like a maniac, making it more sincere and more powerful to express how I feel and how I am about to hold the time and space between us like a thin string of love and hope. I sometimes end up smiling like I am dumbstruck by a happy laser thunder flash with cotton candy on top. And if that flash ever pictures me in that moment, like a photograph of some sort, I look like a penguin on dope, but I am so damn happy about my smile when I see her. Yes, these kind of stories. The kind of stories that teach us that not all emotions can be accurately described but these stories give us the deciding step for the next time we feel this emotion again.
I began with funny, I will continue with some kind of a deep stuff. We like to carry within us stories of truth. Moments where we decided to put our foot down, stand our ground and fight for what we believed is right. Moments where we define our rules and don’t live our life for the rules put down by someone else. Moments where we grew up and became adults, not by age, but by owning up and taking responsibility of our life and the decisions we make. I am at an age where I see myself still as an adulting kid, but that’s my decision and I am happy about it, because as responsible and as adulty I can be, the kid part makes me feel like I own the world. Not in an arrogant way, not in a “let’s try putting our fingers in this oven” way, but in a caring, altruistic mode on. And trust me, it’s the best and so rewarding.
We carry within us the stories of our regrets. Stories that are full of wrong choices we made and regrets that we still carry around as baggage. Baggages with cabbages. Stories that some days make us feel that if only we had a time machine or a teleporter or a chance to back in the past and change our choices. Stories that on other days made us feel that whatever happened, happened for the best. Stories that taught us that sometimes you can’t right a wrong and have to learn how to live with it. While the soul crushing regret and guilt will always be there, it will always serve as a reminder and fuel the will to never repeat this mistake of breaking another soul.
We carry within us the stories of our not succeeding. Stories where we failed to be the superhero who saved the day. Stories that ended so badly that we probably wanted to put a permanent stop to our overall story. Like yesterday, I couldn’t stop a big bag of garbage spill milk around the way out of the house. But multipying it by thousands. These stories are too stories that made us who we are today, wiser, responsible, tolerant, not spilling milk around the house and forgiving persons.
We are all story-tellers. We carry so many stories inside us and each of these stories carries a special place in our heart and soul.
So, what about it, reader that passed my burritto ramblings and found the way to the end of this english writing? The conclusion is this: We must find someone who appreciates the story you are and the story that you are trying to become. Find someone who isn’t afraid to hold your hand and walk with you as you shiver in the memories of your marvelous past, full of this and that. Find someone who doesn’t judge you or the places you have been but sees you for who you are a beautiful kaleidoscope of a soul, whose pieces are held together by the strength of the stories it carries within.
