Lyrics from a forgotten song, A color in the strangest place, Designs from a movie long lost.
There’s always something to keep me telling stories. Whether it’s in spite of the rules or because of them, I’ll never stop.
The lifelong compulsion to storytell. If I don’t get the energy out soon, the person I am will devolve.
I go through withdrawl. The world is dull. Everything must be exaggerated. Gotta make it interesting. Lies are interesting. Let’s go with those.
Why? Does everything always have to be a story? Why does it always have to be amazing? Does the triumphant avoidance of black ice on my lunch break have to be worth telling?
Do the insanities that exist only in my mind have to be shared? Are they interesting enough for that? Who really cares?
It must be worth it, Because it isn’t just me. Humans have been telling stories since before they could probably talk. We have to.
We need it. Stories are how we bring people into our own experiences. Billions of worlds, all unique. Miniature vingettes can make rooms we’ve seen 10,000 times new again.
We’ll never run out of stories to tell, Never run out of novels to write, Never run out of worlds to build, Never run out of ridiculous encounters in the day to recount.
Listen. Listen to them. Everyone cares to have their story heard.