To own your story, is to take control over your fate.
I’ve never been good at telling my story. The story I tell is always only half of the full tale. It’s the highlights, the good moments and the seconds that frame me as my own hero.
However, recently I’ve started telling the full story. The story where I’m not all that smart, or sexy or brave or even kind. The story that paints me for what I am, who I am.
What or who that is, I don’t quite understand yet. But in telling the story I never tell, I think I’m slowly learning who I truely am when I’m not pretending to be the person the other person wants me to be.
Maybe, I will never be able to pin down my true self. Maybe, my true self doesn’t even exist. Maybe, we are always moving, changing, becoming…but I think I’m slowly understanding that that is okay.
It’s okay to wake up each morning a different me. It’s okay to wear combat boots and black eyeliner one day, then wear dresses and high heels the next day.
Maybe, it’s okay to make mistakes, even if you can see that they are mistakes ahead of time. Maybe mistakes are a part of the human experience. Maybe bad decisions are as well.
I don’t know exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I never want the colours to fade. I always feel like I’m living in kaleidoscopic technicolour. My mind never stops, I always feel like my brain is rushing in and out in a waterfall of thoughts I can’t quite catch and control.
Maybe, the reason we are all here is to chase the technicolour.
Chase the neon nights spent in club cathedrals, worshiping a beat that reverberates in our ribcages. Chase the mud-pie mornings and Sunday afternoon lunches spent in the sun. Chase skinny dipping and long car rides in the dead of night.
Maybe, life is supposed to be spent chasing the moments that make you feel immortal and effervescent.