My Untold Story

It’s in there. I know it is.

I can feel it, sometimes. Feel it screaming and pounding and writhing from within the walls of my very being. Setting my heart on fire and watching it burn with absolutely no regrets. It longs so badly to be let out, it needs to be free, and I want more than I can ever say to give it just that. But it’s so hard, sometimes. I’m not quite ready. One day, though. One day.

It’s not completely whole, yet. It’s like a baby in a womb, so weak and frail and unfinished, but destined for greatness that I can never quite explain. Some parts of it are there--there’s a general shape of what it will one day become--but take it out of me before its time, and it could never live. Never live. It does not have the organs that it requires to thrive, and so for now, it must simply stay within me. Begging and begging to just be given life, already, but never to any avail. It needs something more to survive, and I’m trying so, so hard to provide for it before it fades away completely. So, so hard. But believe me when I say that it is not an easy task.

There are words and meanings and emotions swimming through my heart that I just cannot explain. They form it’s body, it’s soul, it’s very being. It is a beautiful thing--it really is--but only to me, somehow. The world would not understand its complexities even if I tried to give it sense. I have not yet figured out a way to share its meaning, to mold it into a form that the others can comprehend, to transfer it safely from my soul to the next. But one day, I swear it, I will. I will.

My soul has a story. A story that’s been growing in me since the very beginning--and will until the very end--but only now has started to kick. Eventually it will come to bloom, but for the moment, it is only a tormented, bleeding glob of the deepest and truest parts of myself. Raw and real and horrifyingly beautiful, but still just a glob. It has so much untapped potential, meant to tease and taunt and torment me until the very day that I manage to do it right, and then maybe I can finally set it free. I can finally follow my destiny.

But sometimes I have doubts. Doubts that I will ever find a way to bring it the life that is so craves. Doubts that it is even possible to recreate the story inside of me onto the crisp, blank papers of reality. There are not enough words in the English language--in any language, in fact--to fully describe what I know thrives and grows inside my soul, and despite how hard my heart aches for an outlet, sometimes I doubt that such a thing exists. Beautiful as it is, maybe the world was never meant to see my story. Maybe God is just tormenting me for the fun of it.

But no. It can't be. I refuse to believe. I know, from the very bottom of my being, that my ideas are meant to be shared. That the unquenchable thirst that I feel now will be there until the moment that I find the right words, the right ideas, to share the story that the universe has planted within me. The story that is me, and always has been. It is so, so far from whole right now--just a thousand broken pieces scattered across my desert of a being--but one day, maybe, it could be more. One day I will find the missing parts, and it will all come together in my hands.

One day my baby will be born, my puzzle will be solved, my soul will be appeased.

One day, my story will be told. And until that day is reached, I will never be satisfied.

(A/N): Ok, I know this is a little confusing, so I'll give you a little background info...

I have this idea of a novel in my head, and it means more to me than I could ever express, but the thing is... it's barely an idea at all. I have the most important scene and moments of dialogue written out in my brain, but without even having any idea of how I actually plan to progress to those scenes. I have deep, emotion characters and beautiful relationships between those characters, but without any idea of what's happening in the world they live in. It makes no sense at all, and I can't explain it, but it's as if I have a story living inside of me that's just waiting for me to chip it out of my brain. It's so strange, but I feel as if it's been always inside of me, and I'm always going to be so unsatisfied with my life until I get it out.

It's my 'soul story,' if I may call it that. I've never felt so incredibly attached to a story-idea before (if you could even call it an idea), and it's as if writing it down would be like writing down my soul. Very strange, I know, but it gives me a reason to keep living, and I need plenty of those XD.