What It Means To Be Human
What It Means To Be Human writer stories
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relunctanthoney
relunctanthoney Eastern European aspiring writer
Autoplay OFF   •   10 months ago
It was a great mistake, my birth as a man. As solitary as a green leaf that refused to fall once autumn came, I had never fit it. I would have, probably, been more successful as a raccoon or as a sunflower. But I couldn't be those, so I became a writer.

What It Means To Be Human

It was a great mistake, my birth as a man. As solitary as a green leaf that refused to fall once autumn came, I had never fit it.

I would have, probably, been more successful as a raccoon or as a sunflower. But I couldn't be those, so I became a writer.

I wrote my own world. With tear-dilluted ink and a determination given by dreams, I built a place where both the quiet and the restless had a purpose of their own.

A place I could, finally, call "home".

But it turned out not to be like that. As I stood amongst my characters, I realised I had been mistaken.

Their belevolent grins and words of praise were meant to replace everything I had been deprived of in real life; but they weren't real, they lacked substance.

Soon enough, I had come to miss the way my heart skipped a beat through the summer heat whenever something embarrassing happened in reality. I had to go back.

With just a single nod of "goodbye", I parted with the people of my creation. Although they would always be a part of my soul, I couldn't forever live inside of me. I had to face the world.

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