She was the kind of girl they wrote books about,
Wild, beautiful and strong
But in front of the broken mirror
The world only saw her flaws
Eyes cruel and hands locked
As they leafed through the pages
Hungry for the brave end
Blind to the wondrous reality that stood in front of them
Her story labeled prosaic and dead.
-A.A
****
Andrea's Interlude.
As a young teenager I loved reading fantasy. My books tended to have a main character with a broken life who was meant for bigger things. The protagonists in those stories were brave and courageous, and always ended up being heroes of their own story. In my reality, I felt like the villain or maybe the lame sidekick and it felt like everyone else thought the same. I wanted to be the Annabeth Chase, the Calaena Sardothien of my life. It took me a long time to realize that just because I hadn't fought a physical battle against a raging army or slayed a dragon didn't mean I was any less the hero of my own story.
Sometimes we are so busy trying to find out our purpose, trying to figure out where we fit into life, comparing ourselves to others –that we forget to live out the pages of our lives. Do not let your story become a cheap imitation of what could have been. Your story is wonderful and captivating.
But most of all it is Real.
Trust me, you don't want to miss a word.
YOU ARE READING
Dark Therapy
Poetry||Poetry|| I built my own Paris, Just to watch it crumble down And yet I tried again, Mind fixated on a fantasy That spoke of wings and fairy tales #164 ranking in poetry 9/1/2021 #149 ranking in poetry 9/2/2021 #72 ranking in poetry 9/4/2021 #55 ra...
