Another page has turned on the calendar, June now, not May. Mental stress? It’s an unwelcome visitor but in this busy corporate world, we can’t help to have it come by. Now I’m walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind.
In this story of my life, I am the protagonist. I am the hero. I am every lesson I’ve ever learned and the finish line of every race. I am laughs that make stomachs ache, rainbows after storms and the overwhelming relief of crying out sorrows. I am getting the right answer after trying, trying, [endless] trying without giving up. I am on the inside of an inside joke and outside the boundaries of reality. I am sunflowers and daisies and birdsong on a spring breeze. I am the helping hand and the shoulder to lean on. I am the cheerleader, the coach, the team player and the water girl. I am the sunrise as well as the sunset. I am the magic that sparks like electricity in the atmosphere.
In this story of my life, I am the antagonist. I am the villain. I am the obstacles to overcome and the tears cried in vain. I am the slump of shoulders in defeat. I am every mistake I’ve ever made and every regret that fights off sleep. I am droughts and floods and earthquakes. I am the foot subtly stuck out to trip. I am tangled lies and twisted tongues. I am the snake hiding in the grass waiting, waiting, waiting to strike. I am termites feasting on destruction. I am forgetting lines, dates, pants. I am an all-nighter for an assignment due last week. I am the shame in giving up and the weight of the world. I am the ghost. I am the monster. I am the terror that sends chills racing down spines.
In this story of my life, I am the extras. I am watching it all pass from the sidelines. I am the overlooked, the unheard and the never-before-seen. I am the heat waves shimmering above hot asphalt and the balloon riding the wind. I am the space between then and now. I am a placeholder. I am windblown hair. I am the stand-in just famous enough to be ignored. I am the shadow. I am the reflection. I am the tick, tick, ticking of the clock in the background.
In this story of my life, I am me.
But here’s where the lines blur: Do you ever wonder about how much of us are we and how much is based on other people? Like what parts of our personality would be the same no matter what place and time we were born into and which parts developed because of the environment we found ourselves in?
Do personality traits that are completely us, unadulterated by any outside forces, exist? Is everything we are based off of who we know, what we’ve seen and where we’ve been?
After all, do you think this makes any difference? Me neither.
June has 30 days. Each day can bring us one step closer to our goal, or push us one step back. We have 30 chances to fail, or to succeed. Let’s succeed—page by page, pound by pound.