Lost and Found

I read somewhere that everyone has a story inside of them, and likely as not, it’s a very personal story. Something dark or joyous that is just bursting at the seams to come out of you and see the light, something that may hurt a few feelings along teh way or bruise a few egos. But, deep inside you, you know that this story has to come out, someway, somehow you have to tell this story or else it will eat you up and kill you whole.

I’ve spent years looking for mine and I think I’ve finally found it but-I’m not ready to share it yet. I don’t know why. Fear, I expect, of bruising those egos, of hurting those feelings. You see, the people I’m going to expose are still here and very much awake and walking around. I think that I’m scared of the questions that would come at me when someone may or, may not see the story or that they may or may not hear about it from some nosy busy-body that just has to tell someone close to my family that they heard something or, may have seen something and just wanted to know and be clear that everything was all right with my household.
I would be afraid of the questions. The questions that I have no respectable answer to. The questions that I know I would feel injured at having to answer, insulted, even.
“I’ve written the book, I’ve given you all the answers that I’m willing to give you, isn’t that enough?”
Scared, I suspect…
But then, when am I to write this story? How long will it wait inside of me? Until I’m ready, will it really wait that long? Will it continue to be patient and fester like an open wound waiting for some salve to ease it’s pain? What will it do when it is tired and fed up and can’t wait anymore?
More importantly, what will I do?
Will I finally write it then? Will I finally dip my hand into the festering pond and pull out my story, guts and all, and expose it to the open wind?

I see freedom in this, I can even feel it. It feels like being…unchained, untethered allowed to roam, well, free, like a true wild thing.
Like a thing ready to be heard.
I long for that day.
But, even more, I long for the day when I won’t have to long for it anymore.

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