The Storyteller

The Curse of Being a Storyteller

Anybody can say they are a writer.  As long as they put pen to paper and write words, that form sentences, and paragraphs that’s what you are.  You are someone who writes, the definition is simple enough. 

A storyteller  … I think is cut from a different cloth.  They see the world take it in and awkwardly react to it, they expand on it, and twist it.  They morph the world they see or want to see, and make it more. 

Storytellers are the quiet oversensitive ones that are constantly overlooked.  They are the insecure and the lonely.  They are the ones that choose to stay invisible for fear of being noticed and hurt.  That’s who they are. 

Storytellers can close their eyes and are transported to new realms and worlds.  They wish they could stay there and they could live in their dream worlds.  They are saddened as they are awakened from their dreams because they feel so real, so right. 

They are constantly crushed by life forcing them to live in reality. 

Only fueled by the visions in their head and wishing that their mind worked like everybody else. 

People praise them as they as punish themselves. 

They are called gifted …

I am called gifted …

But most of the time I just feel cursed.