There is a new someone I have been telling bits and pieces of myself to.
Sharing stories that make up the person he thinks he knows. Or wants to know.
It’s such a strange thing, to get someone caught up on all of the intricacies of what makes us who we are.
I realized hours later, after one of these sharing sessions, that I had mixed up the series of events in my recounting of two childhood/early adulthood stories. Not on purpose. In fact, we had been having a conversation about whether or not humans are innately ‘good’ or not. I haven’t decided. A book I’m reading is challenging my views on that one. But I do know, regardless of whether it is innate or learned behavior, that I am honest.
I am in fact a terrible liar.
But these stories came out so easily. Just as if they were true.
The mix ups don’t change anything fundamentally about who I am or who I portrayed myself to be. It’s just so interesting that they came about at all.
And I don’t know, now, what to make of either the fact that they happened, or that I remembered later that they were not, in fact, fact.
I do, however, know that I like being able to recount stories – fully real or not – with a new someone.
Here’s to another day of creativity…