I never wanted fame. It is easy to say, I know… Everything is easy to say. It is the way to say it that makes us who we are. We live the same joys, suffer the same pains, seek the same dreams and have the same fears… We use the same words, just not the same way.
We paint with words, we knit thoughts, we make thoughts melodies… Hoping. Hoping the way we see life will reach other people’s hearts. We don’t get to choose who will be moved, and it is the beauty of words. You never know how they will resonate under the brushing look of a reader.
If I wanted my face on the façade of bookstores, or the title of my latest book to provoke murmurs in chic litterary circles, I wouldn’t be here. I would spend all my free time bent over a notebook, writing and rewriting my sentences a hundred times, to make every word fit perfectly. I would work in the darkness, to send out only gems, carefully polished, for the world to see.
Instead, I choose to let myself be clumsy and spontaneous. I give my words to anyone who cares to read them. And my only paycheck is the feedback I get on my comment box. It suffices me, although I wouldn’t mind if it also paid the bills. Who would?
I don’t want fame, because this is not about me. I am just the vessel of my thoughts. I will not leave children behind me, to prolong the memory of what I’ve been, when I die. All that will be left of me, will be these bits and pieces of my mind, lingering in time.
I don’t want millions of people to adore me without knowing who I am. I don’t want masses to mourn me, when they never even crossed my path.
But I hope, someday, someone will fall upon some of my words, and running through my story, will end up setting their glasses on the table and thinking for themselves…
Oh, how I wish I had known her…
Via today’s Daily Prompt: Famous