Tell me a story thats not in the books [3330]

We as humans struggle to open ourselves up the the possibility of platonic and romantic vulnerability. One could argue it’s out of fear or inability to become open and raw with someone but, I think the reality is it’s difficult for us to see ourselves completely and unblushingly.

There are people who undoubtedly have it- the confidences, the flair, the drip- and they know it and they will let you know it. Yet, there are also people who know they haven’t achieved such accolades and they shelter themselves behinds the need to maintain control or to maintain a facade of themselves as someone their not, to protect their true selves.

Life oftentimes has a tendency to harden folks, make them feel as if they need to mute themselves for others— for themselves; and often we spend our life being a muted, drowned out version of who we truly are.

It’s the glimpse of ourselves that escape when we let our guard down. It’s about the emotions that we invoke in the people when we allow for them to see us for who we are. In the moments of pure and uninterrupted vulnerability, we show the people closest to us parts of ourselves that we have yet to become acquainted with. In the moments where they love us, appreciate us, honor us— even when we fail to do so ourselves— they show us that we are seen.

I wrote this poem with the image of a eulogy in mind. Wondering who would you trust to tell your story. I wrote this with the intention of shedding light on the budding fear of intimacy.  Personally, it’s seems to me that even in life we have this fear of having our story’s told, our personalities shared, and our achievements recounted.

Through fear and doubt we continue to live in the gray area but the question remains, how will we ever live a life worth telling if we’re too scared to share our story? With a eulogy, your life, more-so the impact you left on everyone who loved you, is presented. And that begs me to wonder, would you trust them to tell the story of your life? Why? And if your answer is no one, why is that?

Enjoy,

jo 🤍

If I wrote the story of your life on paper would you trust me to tell everyone how perfect you are? How wonderful you make life just from being?

If I strung sentences together like music on a sheet to write you the most beautiful song of admiration, would you believe that I cherish you?

If I could tell you in so many words how special you were through language succeeding reality or tools of literature to build you a fortress of solace, would you believe it?

If I took all of the knowledge and memory and feelings from my heart and mind to show you my soul would you read it?

Please?