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Posts Tagged ‘stories’

I prefer to read fiction over nonfiction. This has seemed strange to me. As I get older, some of my friends drift away from fiction and dive into nonfiction, but my love of fiction is stronger than ever. Why wouldn’t I prefer to read a real story? A story of a life whom I could meet in person if that person was still alive?

I think I’m starting to figure out why.

Fiction sometimes feels more real to me. The dialogue, the specificities in colors and images of what the characters see or do…some of that is hard to remember for a nonfiction story. There are images writers create in nonfiction that you don’t usually find in fiction because it’s coming from a real memory. But other than that, it doesn’t matter to me that fiction is false because the ideas behind the story are probably mostly true, depending on the story. Some things or feelings that happen to the characters in fiction stories we can either relate to or at least understand.

But it goes deeper than that. I feel like when I read nonfiction, I am getting told the story from someone else, even if it is written in first person. I already have it in my head that this story is true, therefore I give my mind space from it. It’s still a good story, but that life was already lived, is already taken.

But fiction stories are basically up for grabs. In fiction, I can insert myself into the story and allow myself to be that character.  I am the legs running through the trees; I am holding on to the back of a dragon; I am the one crying as I hold my dead, fake sister.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I am quite a lucky kid when looking at the big picture, but I have my days like everyone else. Sometimes I want to be anywhere but here, but then I don’t have the gas to go anywhere. I may not make it to New York, but I can read about a character who lives in New York. For me, reading fiction is the cheapest vacation. Emotion moves us, changes us, and I have dug through more emotions in just a few fiction books I’ve read than all of the nonfiction ones put together. I crave emotion—whether it’s anger, fear, sadness, happiness, hope—because to feel anything is to feel alive. In the low, dull moments of my life I can be soaring. I don’t necessarily like being angry or feel like my heart is breaking, but I’ll take anything over nothing at all.

That’s why I love the writing world. Writing isn’t just a world filled with words, but it’s also a world filled with emotion. The way we can use words to stir up something inside people is fascinating to me.

In life, you can’t be everything (there’s not enough time). But through a story, you can be anything. 

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I’m terrible with goodbyes. And they are everywhere. Each day has an end. Each book. Each adventure. Each person.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my trip to Ireland and my 3 months spent in Italy. It is a deep sorrow that needs to be learned to live with and accept. But before the goodbyes, there’s life. There’s love. There’s hope.

Desires can be traps. To crave something you can’t have is a sorrow deeper than a grave. Part of me craves to go back to Italy. The other part of me craves to go back to Italy with the people I had been there with, but that would mean going back in time. I can now only relive those memories in my mind. I can hit replay on the laughs, but I won’t hear them there again. I can imagine laying out on a soccer field, but we won’t again. I can see the vineyards, the buildings, the mountains in my mind, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever get to see them again except in pictures. I can tell stories, but they will only be stories. The others will never really know, no matter how good of a story teller I am.

To experience is to live. But to live is to lose. For everything we’ve experienced will eventually come to an end.

Living in the past is like being dead in the present. I look back on my study abroad in Italy, my spring break in Ireland, and can smile at the amazing chance that I was given. But then the other half of me misses it to the point of tears.

Parting is such sweet sorrow. It has been almost 5 months since I’ve been back, but I have yet to find the strength to accept the goodbye. 

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I finally feel certain of where I want my writing to lead.

I’m sure you have all heard by now of the Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting that happened this morning. First and foremost, i offer my condolences, my prayers, my heart, my hugs, my respects to the children that have found their place in heaven and for their families that were left down here. I smile as I imagine Jesus taking their hands and showing them His kingdom, but I bow my head for the families that have to mourn their children. No parent should have to go through something like that. For some, it may have been their first child and maybe even their only child.

I have thought a lot about the idea of suicides and school shootings for the past couple years, and have a feeling that I need to use my writing to reach the people that may take their own lives or do more shootings in the future. There will be bullying in the future, there will be rejection, there will be depression, but I want to be someone who can bring some peace to their frustrations or pent up issues and grudges that are sometimes the reasons that lead to these tragedies. I was an outcast throughout high school, though I have two very dear friends I owe my sanity to.

An old classmate of mine and I were talking about how there needs to be more life lessons taught in schools. Most of our speakers only talked about drinking and driving, which is very important too, but it’s not the only issue. We have people that try to get people to stop bullying, but very few people who talk about how to deal with bullying and whatever else. All through high school, I held grudges on people in my class, and I am still dealing with those grudges now. They fester and build when you don’t deal with them, when you don’t talk to someone about your frustrations  when you don’t know how to forgive someone you hate.

Though many hate the man that killed the children, I yearn to understand what led him to do such a thing. I assume there may have been family problems since he shot his mother, but to continue to kill children…it shocks me, as much as other school shootings have. For a couple kids, they aren’t getting any love at home, some get too much love, and then they don’t know how to handle rejection.  Rejection shapes us, teaches us. If this happens to our kids, we need to help them through it, not shield them from the evils of the world. If we do, then once they are out on their own, they won’t know what to do.

I want to help them through my writing. I want to bring them stories with people who may be in their position, with people who find that they are stronger than the struggles that they go through, people who choose to be better than the people that put them down. I want them to read my blog, my books, my poetry, my short stories, listen to my songs…anything that may begin to change their minds just enough to put the gun down for one more day, to loosen the rope from their necks. We need to lead them away from plans of death and destruction.

This is my mission. This is what I will strive for until my own death.

If you know of anyone that may need a friend to talk to, please have them email me. I would love to talk, I would love to guide in whatever way I can.

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