tell me a story

Have you ever thought that fictional stories are necessary to our humanity? Think of your favorite stories throughout your life; the ones told at bedtime when you were still filled with wonder at the world, the ones found in the novels you clung to as lifelines in making sense of friends and family, the odysseys which changed your perception of the heights to which you could aspire. I’ll bet that every one of those stories has an extraordinary protagonist with some unique ability, either in what they do or in the way they see the world around them. Why do we attach ourselves to these heroes and heroins, relating with them and trying to live vicariously through their eyes? We do this because they represent the very best of what we could be. They make us dream that if ever the time came, we would be rise to the occasion and be extraordinary. This desire for greatness seems to register at some level with all of us, and keeps some part of us just as hopeful as that kid at bedtime. And then there are those elect few of us who, after all of the stories and the hoping and wondering, actually get up and go out as just their ordinary selves and, with only the promise of what could be, make their own extraordinary story.

 

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