And please, for the sake of what little sanity I possess, put the emphasis on *am.*
I took a walk tonight. It’s not part of my evening routine, and in reality I was supposed to go to the gym, but I couldn’t bear the same monotony of the usual Monday night workout. So, I put in my earbuds, locked the door, and did a leisure 3 mile walk. The evening was, and is, very cool and the sun hadn’t really started its descent, and as I was walking, I had decided to play a character based playlist from my Spotify account. For those of you who are a little unsure of what I mean, most of my characters have a specific genre or style of music associated with them, so when I want to channel a character, I put on their playlist and let the speak to me. Tonight’s band of voices was Delia, Kaitlyn, Mera, and Murielle.
As I was walking along, listening to the playlist dedicated to the first three ladies, I was struck by something that will seem completely insane to most people. Indeed, it feels pretty unnerving as well, when I think about it, but it is the truth. I felt as if all of the voices in my head were walking alongside me, making a large body people who walked with me, as opposed to me being my usual solitary self.
It was strange. I could almost see Delia reach for Cullen- now finally happy to have come home, Kailtyn put the dagger into her lover’s back only for her to scream in agony for it was all his own doing, and Mera weep and yearn for one she was never sure if she would ever see again. It was a beautiful think to see in my imagination but it was as I reached the halfway point and the playlist moved to Murielle that others began “speaking” to me.
Such a beautiful picture isn’t it? Well, I think so anyway…even with the filters added to it. What can I say? I’m no photographer.
However, it was at this juncture that Ria, Jane, Emily P., Rina, Faith, Charity, Naomi, Alexandria, Anne, Chrissy, Mysty, Emily C., Belle, Adelaide, and a slew of others came at me and I felt such a connection to those who have chosen to share their stories with me. Many new voices, those who are just now beginning to trust me, whispered pieces of their lives to me that are soon to be put to paper.
Many people don’t truly understand what it means to be a writer, and I use that title very loosely for I’m simply an amateur and have, at this point, never been paid for my work. I’ve seen the world as a writer since I was in quite possibly the seventh or eighth grade and I penned my first, incomplete, story. I see the world differently than most people do, and at times it has become a very lonely experience. (Though I’ll also attribute this to my INFJ personality)
But I realized on my walk, that while it may seem lonely, I know these voices in my head almost as well as I do my closest friends and family. I’ve seen their childhoods, I know what makes them weak, and I know what makes them strong. I’ve seen many of them fall in love, and some of them lose the ones they love the most. I’ve heard their cries of sorrow and their cries of rage. I almost can feel their pain when I fully let them speak and I’m typing as fast as I can, trying to keep up with their rapid fire storytelling.
I know that Faith feels she can never trust again, and Charity believes she’ll never let anyone get close enough to hurt her ever again. I know how strong Lena is as she hides the marks from an abusive mother. I’ve seen Issie cower in fear of her family and yet open her heart and let in a family that loves her more than she ever thought possible. I’ve seen Adelaide, a princess by birth, flee the circumstances thrown at her and make a new life for herself and in doing so, help free her country from a tyrant she once called father. I know that Murielle’s greatest desire is to be accepted for who she is, not for who she tries to become. I also know that when it rains, Murielle has the potential to be the strongest half-elf on any side of the nine realms.
And these ladies are only in my head for a very brief time. I finished Anne and Erik’s story about five years ago, and since then she has been very quiet. She is very happy with her love and with her children, free from the worries of her childhood. I try to get her to come out and play, but she, in her very Anne-polite way, says no.
Maybe I am crazy… But then again so are you. For just as you sit there and, quite possibly, wonder how anyone would choose to live a life like this, where their thoughts are never really their own. But I sit here and think, why wouldn’t you want to live this life? I’ve lived a thousand life times, and have had just as many heartaches as I have had romances.
I was once asked “Who is the real Deanna?” I’ve now come to the conclusion that even I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe there isn’t a real Deanna. Maybe I’m just a composite of a million different thoughts and ideas that are strung together on this beautiful journey of life and I’m to always be a mystery to others.
But you know what? I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. So, go ahead. Lock me up. Throw away the key. I’ll have lived a life only few could have ever dreamed of. And that…is all I need.
Much love, my fellow readers.