Like it or not, our life is our story, except not contained to some page or screen, not bound between covers you can dog-ear and close and come back to later. It is lived out, experienced in all its complexity and profundity, all its joy and despair.
There is a beginning, middle, and end. There is every kind of conflict, and so seldom is it neatly resolved, loose ends wrapped up and tied in a pretty bow on top of a packaged lesson to open at will. Some conflicts will not be resolved or it will feel that way, leaving lingering pain and suffering.
There is a plot even when we fear we’ve lost the point of it and don’t wish to follow it anymore. There will be plot twists and what seems like holes you fall through but then the story goes on regardless.
Though all of our stories are interconnected, for most of us, it is by an often unseen thread. But there are others who become characters in our story, some briefly passing through a scene, and sometimes, sadly, becoming the main character for a time as we fade or allow ourselves to be pushed into the background. We don’t always get a say in how long we remain a part of another’s story. But often we do, leaving when someone’s story is overwhelming ours to the point we feel ours is going in a darker direction than we’d like or they make ours a living hell.
To stay a lasting part of someone’s story usually requires taking their story as seriously as your own and adding love and support to it. If not, you will eventually be written out but any damage done will always be there between the lines. You will have left your mark. If that is all that matters to you, then you had no place in their story anyway.”
Болеть не круто 😤 не люблю ныть, но я усталь
на этом минутка слабости закончилась, иду лечиться дальше)
Лучше скажите, помните меня с таким цветом волос? мне очень нравилось) А вам больше нравится как на фото или как сейчас?)