I'm a Storyteller

You know how when your mom tells you that you're beautiful, you don't really believe her because, well, mom's are supposed to think you're beautiful! But when a stranger says it, or better yet, a boy, it suddenly means so much more.

I sort of connect that with my writing. My mom and friends have always told me my writing is great, but when a teacher or an unsuspecting classmate tells you, it feels so much different; better. It's a confidence boost, and everyone can always use them. 

When I went to college for a grand total of 25 days, one of my roommates told me that she liked listening to my stories about my life and just listening to me talk in general. She said I was captivating.

Come to find out, when I left school she told my other roommate she couldn't stand how much I talked, and that I talked too much about myself. That kind of turned her original comment into complete trash and lies, and was all around a hurtful thing to hear. And what's that saying? It takes ten compliments to diminish one insult? It's something like that... Anyway, my time at college was pretty sucky, and it has taken me a long time feel okay about my time spent there and my decision to leave. I couldn't help but think, Do I talk too much? Do I talk too much about myself? It made me self-conscious, like maybe other people think this about me too, and here I am writing a blog post about yours truly. 

This old roommate's comment has been haunting me since I first heard of it, and in public settings when I'm expected to share something about myself, I suddenly will feel awkward and nervous about saying too much. It's annoying, because I'm me, and maybe I do talk a lot. And maybe, I talk a lot about myself, but dammit, I think I'm a fairly interesting character! If she didn't want to listen, she didn't have to...

But, there is one place where I talk and I never think about if I'm talking too much. I can't say where, because it is private, but it is somewhere I go, and sometimes I talk. Tonight, I did. And after everything was over, this woman I'd never seen before pulled me aside.

She told me my voice was magical. She said, when I spoke it sounded like musical notes, and she just wanted to keep listening.

This was the nicest thing I've heard in awhile.

She told me I'm a storyteller.

I soaked in her beautiful and powerful compliments, and I could feel my old bitchy roommate's nasty remark suddenly flutter from my shoulders. 

She told me I'm a storyteller. An author. And that is all I've ever wanted to be.