Me

This is where we pretend we’re seated at my favourite cafe.

Maybe it’s an interview, a blind-date or old acquaintances on the brink of becoming great friends. It doesn’t matter. We’re here to catch up with each other and so we start with the usual introductions…

I’m a woman who’s lived in the spotlight for the past decade or so, and am therefore slightly reticent about letting anyone enter my world too easily. But you are someone I actually want to let in, because I trust your belief in the importance of stories.

You smile. Maybe. Your smile says.

I’ve been writing my life’s stories since I was nine, and I have boxes of journals to prove that! But these days, no one really writes in journals anymore. Everyone types. Everyone blogs. In this great big world of anonymous internet users, many have begun revealing their heart’s deepest desires and regrets without once stepping out to say who they really are. And that suits me fine.

This blog? It’s my ninth.

Ninth? You raise your eyebrows. Why would anyone need nine blogs?

Seasons… I reply. We go through seasons – anger, hurt, happiness, delirium, hope… even years of absolute practicality that leaves no room for dreaming – it’s all about seasons. And each blog was representative of a particular journey of mine.

What season are you in then, right now? You ask.

I falter. My confidence flickers. And for a moment, you see beneath my veneer of confidence.

I… I’m learning to be a little girl again. I’m learning to dream.

I see it in your eyes. You’re wondering why you’d want to get to know me… why you’d bother reading my story. I suddenly feel shy. Maybe you’d want to because you might just find a little bit of you in me, or the characters I meet in my awkward life, I tentatively offer.

Maybe. As a habit, you reach for your drink in the silence.
And realize that the silence doesn’t feel strange.
In fact, it’s oddly comforting.

‘I wondered which was harder, in the end. The act of telling, or who you told it to. Or maybe if, when you finally got it out, the story was really all that mattered.’

– Sarah Dessen

And like all conversations go, it’s now your turn.
Share your story, introduce yourself, your blog or random thoughts.
I promise to listen.

Email: the.marionette.writes@gmail.com

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