The Storyteller


(A/N- Because life is my muse, and I am the one that translates its grief to art.) 

This is a story, but it has no ending.
I am a storyteller but until now, I’ve let someone else write my story.
I’ve let someone else map my beginning, middle and end,
Write the message so that all I had to do was click ‘Send’,
I’ve let someone else tell me about the life I should live,
I’ve let someone take what I was not ready to give.
This is my story and here is the beginning.

Once upon a time, someone told me that we were excerpts from a story that hadn’t been written yet.
It was one that I hoped I could write someday.
For it only seemed fitting that a story would create for me,
A world I love more than this- free from the ‘labyrinth of suffering’.

But, Reality destroys the fairytales we believe in,
And this was no exception.
Like a stream of lava trickling down the rocky boulders of what Life tried to build,
It engulfed all in its path, word-by-word, chapter-by-chapter.
It truly takes a maelstrom of emotions to make you believe in happily-never-afters.  
It takes the Universe to embark upon a mission- to give you hope and take it away,
To give you love and replace it with nothing.

Suddenly, Cinderella’s glass slipper hurts, like most closed stilettoes do.
Flying becomes a reminder of your phobia of great heights.
Magic spells are now curses cast.
Poisoned apples and Death are the ideas that last.

But how do you survive the fall from the cliff someone else’s words wrote?
Your wings of faith melt into waxy nothingness because the sun burnt a little too bright, not because you flew too close.
Not because your arms were willing to embrace it with all that you have, not because you were afraid of the indentations that followed.
Can one attempt to justify the impact of another’s arrows,
If pain and suffering to one brought peace and belonging to the other?
For, the other knew no home but the love of words and the fury that came with it.
Words faded with time, and so did I.

The dried ink of memory became a daguerreotype, nestled safely in the comfort of a chest drawer.
I look at it sometimes and revel in the beauty and simplicity of the story that it could have been.
But I let someone else write it.
I let Life write what Love should have written.
I let it become the penultimate domino to twice shy, once bitten.
Not anymore.

I once believed in poems that rhymed.
I believed in fairytales that made the heart sigh.
I believed that the ending came only after the beginning.
But, I know better now.
The curtains are drawn and the remnants of monsoon sunlight come streaming in,
Reminding me that this is not an end to the Idealist.
Reminding me that I simply have to believe in different kinds of fairytales now.
Not all poems rhyme, not all endings begin, not all stories end.
Some words simply need to find their way back to us again.
And they will.
They will brave the waves of time with which they had once ebbed away from our shores and bring back to me a parchment and a quill.
It is time I served the sentence for my victimless crime.
It is time I give back Life the poetry it gave me.
This is a story, but it has no ending.

I am a storyteller and I have no ending.

Comments

  1. You write so well ❤. I love this

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  2. You write so well ❤. I love this

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  3. This is so good that its quotable. Talented af❤️

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    1. The words every aspiring writer wants to hear :)

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  4. Beautiful. I love your experimental style and innovative use of words. Keep it up.

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    1. Thank you so much! That's a wonderful compliment, means a lot!

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  5. I love the drift of the narrative. Beautifully composed. Such intense thoughts from one so young. You have everything it takes to be a brilliant writer/poet. Keep at it. Proud of you Ankita!

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  6. I will use this as my essay hahahah jk YOU AWESOME

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  7. This is just amazing. Beautifully written. And. People can relate to it. My god. ��

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    1. Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm so glad you liked it :)

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  8. This is just amazing. Beautifully written. And. People can relate to it. My god. ��

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  9. Superbly written Ankita...waiting for more...

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    1. Thank you so much! That gives me so much drive to keep striving to write and improve, thank you :)

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  10. Wonderful words!A storyteller's story in such a beautiful poem!

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  11. This was definitely one the best pieces of writing you have ever done. It's beautifully written and it talks about really mature concepts, brilliant stuff! Keep it up

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