Those stories we told we – of course – all lies, or – at least – they were not the truth. Maybe lies is the wrong word, we all embellish the stories of our lives, turning ourselves into the main character in the stories that happen around us. We may not always be the hero, sometimes we are the victim, sometimes even the fool, but – in the end – they do become stories about us.
After all, though, we ought to be the central character in our own stories, not the bit players, the minor characters, in someone else’s tale. We should all aim to be more than the attendant lord, or the flunky, or the maid in the story of someone else’s life. We should wrest control of that story from them, they have their own tale to tell and we have ours.
It is too easy to play the role of victim, letting your story happen to you as though you are not the author, the creator of your own tale. Those heroes and celebrities and everyone like them who appears larger than life, they have taken control of the story of their life. They have embellished it, polished it, turning the mundane into the faux-significant, making edifying maxims out of the ordinary to impress those who have never dreamed of taking their own life story into their hands and making something out of it.
After all, it is your story; you can make of it what you will.
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