Why aren’t we “keeping it real”
I have lived quite a life, I must say in my 40 years of existence, I have definitely ran the gauntlet, and am still here to tell about it. I definitely have learned about people, about myself, and about how individuals relate or don’t relate to each other, however tonight I am asking the question, why isn’t anyone talking about the not so pretty stories that comes with being human and being alive?
It seems to me that our society enjoys the stories coming from those who have the imaginary address located on the beautifully paved streets of Mr. Rogers neighborhood. I’m not saying that I’m a member of the emo community, quite the contrary. I consider myself to be enlightened, open to new thoughts and ideas, and always looking on the bright side of every situation, however I also realize that the stories that are less told are those that need to be heard. It is for this reason that I am writing this, because as I scroll through the endless list of flawlessly curated memoirs and magically scripted writings I find very few which resemble real life. No disrespect to those writers living their best life and documenting it, I just want to see more of the “real”, as it pertains to me.
I want to write and read about the things that really affect me, the things that keep me up at night, the very things that define the human being that I have become. I want to use this platform to get everything in my mind out, and do a deep dive into those things that throw me for a loop, what makes my heart sing, what makes me want more. To me, writing is therapy and when I get the urge to write I intend to do just that, spill my guts out on paper, or laptop screen in this particular instance.
Going forward, I intend to start my own journey, as bright or dusky as it may be at times, I’m writing it. I love medium for giving me an outlet and I’m hopeful that my stories can heal others as they are now healing me.
