Everyone wants to share their stories but I always was a listener. Maybe I had no stories that were worth sharing. Mediocre life without bumps, I always felt my life was easy going. I used to hear people's stories. They were celebrated, wanted, loved and separated. Some were good story teller, they used to explain each and every moments of their life in detail and how much they wanted to go back to their past and correct their gaffe due to which they are suffering today. All these people wanted to live some moments in the past, they wish they could go back. Undo something wrong, apologise to someone and relive some moments. People were different but the stories were similar. And the way and timings they chose to share their stories were different. Some purged themselves as soon as they met a listener, unbound themselves from all restraints and let their intuition flow while some were diffident and timid. It was a real deal to know their inner self. You had to gain trust for them to open to you. It wasn't that I wanted to know everything about others life. I am not creepy and I hate gossips. But I used to see my friends troubling themselves. They had something in them that was hurting them emotionally and I knew if they share their pain shall lighten, it was the cure in my view. So I listened to those who shared deliberately and even had to force emotionally for some. Sometime these stories came up while talking something unimportant and sometimes we buddies used to have buddies time. I observed and I listened and I analysed. I noticed some kind of changes in the storyteller after they shared their part of stories. Some changes were glee while some gloomy. Some seemed free from unrelenting emotions while in some I found that the memories got revived in them and got worse. I felt happy for those who were happy and felt guilty to be a part of gloom for those in dark world of emotions. All stories had some uncertainties and left some questions at the end. And I was always there for suggestions though unexperienced. I did the value judgement and cause and effect relationship of the components of the stories in the future and tried to suggest them the best solution to their uncertainty. Some listened to me and my suggestions while some pretended to do so. Among them who really listened few applied my views in their life but never totally. I think my ideologies were only partially applicable. These ideologies were derived from their stories. I had no experience. I had lived on these stories, felt and experienced thsese stories. My all activities were inspired by these people's stories. I tried to impose all the positive vibes of these stories in me but started observe that dark stains of the stories were already deep rooted in my heart. I felt depressed and thought about these people's life and stories for hours. Why don't they get what they want? Why does this partiality prevails? Why is pain all around, in everyone's life? The gloomy part of these stories covered me. I sought for answers. But I got none. I read books, watched movies, met new people and heard more stories but only got more similar stories. Some ended happily while some were sad endings. I was unsatisfied. These end were not the real end. The story was ongoing. Things change, people leave and life doesn't stop for anybody. I wanted to share this with everyone. I wanted to ask them to move on, I wanted to convince them that an end you think is not really an end. But I didn't know how. I couldn't even convince myself. I was changing. My emotions, thoughts and ideologies were changing. I started to search for a way to communicate with sombre souls. I read Gita, bible, performed meditations, stayed hours in temples and churches searching for answers. Then one day due to a sudden turn of events I felt like I got some answers. I felt revived and enlightened. I was glowing. My faith was glowing. I came back to my life. And I started to write. I gave the form of poems, stories to my emotions. And I read those. I re-read those. I found all the answers there. They were within me. They were within the stories. I read other's writings, fictions, non-fiction all that I could get. Everyline gave me pleasure. I laughed and cried with the stories. I watched more movies. I listened to more people. All these stories became a part of my life. But I felt no more sad if the story is tragic. I have got the power to rewrite. I am not depressed because I have realised that it is never an end.
Inspired from "Perks Of Being a Wallflower" by Stephen Chopbsky
We think we get the love we deserve.
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