For some odd reason, today my, people monitor was on. I went to this bank with my mother and while she filled in checks and stuff, I sat on a sofa, observing everyone, who came in and went out of the bank.
Soon enough, I realized that I just wasn’t noticing what clothes they were wearing or what color shoes they had on, but I was actually thinking of about how each and everyone of them must be having (and of course had) a story of their own, you know, like their own problems, their dilemmas, their moments of pride, their moments of fall and I don’t know why, but I was just so intrigued by all of this.
I’ve always been very interested in stories, fairy-tales, lame pixie’s being kidnapped stories, cute kittens being stuck in a tree type stories and the works. But now, as I grow up, I realize that each one of us has a story to tell of our own, whether they’d like to share the story is entirely subjective. And these stories of course, are far more interesting. And today, as I sat their all comfortably in that sofa, I realized that there is a story, around every corner, waiting to be discovered, heard, maybe even read. And if luckily enough, the story is good, chances are that it might also be retold.
I’m just so happy and the only reason why I’m writing all of this is because I’m so looking forward to being told many, many stories by other people, I’ll come across, in my life, sooner or later. Also, looking forward to, with even more fervor, that how would my own stories turn out. Some of them have already ended, good endings, ugly headings, omg-whatisthis-endings, but there are many which have just started and many which are yet to start. :)
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