Worth Telling.
When I was younger, I wrote stories all the time. I don’t know exactly why I stopped, but for a long time, I didn’t write much. My fears definitely had something to do with it, because one of those fears was that I didn’t have anything worth writing about. Anything worth telling. Earlier this year, I remembered a certain poem I’d heard before. It was about overcoming fear, and had hit me so powerfully that it almost felt like it had been written just for me. So I decided to memorize it, as inspiration. But eventually, the poem I had only planned on memorizing for fun became a speech, and the speech became a message that I shared over and over again. And after presenting this poem, I started writing again. The poem became a part of my story. And every time I shared my story, I touched someone else’s. I hadn’t expected this. Did this happen because the story I told was mine? There is this expectation that in order to be extraordinary, you have to make yourself different f...