writer in the dark

the stories within us

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I love thinking of people as books. Books that are being written as they live and breathe and speak. I love thinking of what makes up their character; their quirks and flaws, triumphs and mistakes. All the stories, small or life-changing, that have crossed and merged to make up who they are. The moments when they have cried and despaired, when pain has felt unbearable and they can’t get air in their lungs because the world is closing in on them, because they can no longer bring themselves to hope that there is anything more or better waiting for them.

But always, always when everything has fallen apart and it feels like there is no where for them to go, nothing more for them to do, they close their eyes and listen for the whispers in the silence. The whispers of pages before and pages yet to be written, of everything they have endured and everything they have yet to live through.

Always in those stories they see the fire burning within them, the fire that has carried them to where they are right now. And always in those stories do they find the guidance to find that fire again, to reach into their spirit and bring themselves to their feet. To clench their fists, grit their teeth, and scrape their knees climbing out of rock bottom.

I love thinking of people as books because of all the amazing stories they can tell. Stories of struggle and misery, of the fights and battles waged to overcome them. Of standing in front of their demons and not cowering in fear but embracing it, laughing in its face as they bandage their bruised knuckles. They will come out of this in victory, knowing that their survival has bred strength that will keep their fire alive. Stories of finding hope during weakness, of allowing themselves to believe in the glory their pages will be singing when they choose to keep walking.

I love thinking of people as books because I love the moment that they realise the pen to their pages is theirs to pick up. That beautiful, exhilarating, empowering moment when they realise they are a treasure chest of potential waiting to be unlocked. That the words to their stories are theirs to write, theirs to tell, theirs to build their dreams on. I love listening to their stories and watching as they discover themselves and fill their pages with tales of wonder and inspiration.

There is so much we have survived and so much we have yet to experience. A universe of strength and will and determination within us waiting to be tapped into, to take us where our dreams are. And I cannot wait for the day when we sit and we fill the world with awe and rapture of what we have to share.