'A little over a year ago, I started a journey. One of chasing down the thing I wanted to do with my life. Really, I started out grappling with the way to even do that, and what that even was.
I remember, I started out calling it 'dreamchasing'. That was what I was doing. Chasing it down, running through the obstacles of thought, and belief, and all the things that culminated into who I was. Really though, that wasn't even where it started. It wasn't a board of things I wanted, or a list, or a life goal.
It was a crushing despair that everything I wanted in life, I didn't have. Everything I had ever done...Did...NOT...work. I had not become who I thought and saw myself as. Talk about a blow. Bam! It was my fault.
That was the moment, the pivot point. Stark and utter clarity, into the actual life representation I was. Well, I wasn't particularly pleased. You see, I never realized that I grew the person I was. The characteristics, the poise, the adventure, the... all of it. I had given that away, piece by piece throughout a life. It's the king, the boss, my teacher, the weather, my feet, I'm tired, angry. Everywhere but at my own feet did I place the production of my life.
It was like I woke up.
I opened my eyes, and could actually see for the first time clearly.
My life was never the same. That was when I began, the first step, after thirty years I took the first real steps in my life.
I had found the secret, that I grew myself. Once I did that, I never turned back. Life grew before me, and what was behind, that was the very ground I walked from.'
-From the Annals of Lament
North Watchman of Rangforne Mountains
https://steemit.com/fiction/@writerofage/silver-swords-of-ezrano-original-short-story
https://steemit.com/fiction/@writerofage/the-white-forest-a-short-story
https://steemit.com/twbwritingcontest/@writerofage/a-dead-end
https://steemit.com/fiction/@writerofage/the-hands-of-lightning
https://steemit.com/fiction/@writerofage/a-personal-page-original-fiction
https://steemit.com/fiction/@writerofage/desolate-a-short-story
Thank you for reading. Each small story I write, is a piece to the world that grows, Rangforne. Your attention, comments, just the act of reading through this, is greatly appreciated. These short stories, are brief glimpses of the world to come. Come along, there are stories afoot, tales to tell and wonder to behold. Terrors and those that would face them, and the journey it takes to get there.
Welcome to my small corner of the world. Pull up a seat, we have boundless room. Catylist inn is open for all.
