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storytelling

stories have a way of shaping us. well, shaping me.

what happens in the face of disappointing stories? i’ve heard all about a dream deferred:

does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
or fester like a sore–
and then run?
does it stink like rotten meat?
or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?

maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

or does it explode?

but what about those stories that create a heavy load?

has my load really lightened? or have i simply ignored it for some time, hoping that it would subside and ultimately go away?

is life basically good with a few formative trials sprinkled in? or is it one of suffering made manageable by a few sunbursts of beautiful?

how do people move forward? how do i?

i’m ready for a different story.

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