I've always loved stories. It's funny because my oldest daughter is the same way. She enjoys a good story... be it a book, a movie or a Native American telling folk tales.
Another thing about my love of stories is that I'm affected by them.
I still remember reading The Black Stallion as a child and being mesmerized in the story. Same with Gone with the Wind and many other books during my school days. Then I moved into my Anne Rice and Stephen King phase where I couldn't get enough of their supernatural tales.
Don't even get me started on movies! My ex-husband could watch anything or read anything and then walk away unscathed. There were some movies he watched in which I literally had to leave the room and talk myself down for days... He could just turn off the TV or close the book and be done. Period. Moving on.
I still remember having a HUGE fight with him after seeing Oliver Stone's The Doors movie. He simply couldn't understand how I sucked right into Jim Morrison.
I'm moved with stories. And when I'm moved, things stay with me for a while.
When I caught up on IntrigueMe's series about her ex tonight... and she asked for our stories... I gave her the link to The Soldier Story.
It's a helluva story, as stories go... and it's very strange that it actually happened. They say truth is stranger than fiction and it must be true. I couldn't have made that up. It is too extraordinary for my imagination.
When I posted the link in a comment to her, I told her that I couldn't go back and read it. But then I did. I wrote over 150 posts about our relationship but that link broke it down into 12 crucial moments of our relationship. From the beginning to the end.
Reading it, diving back into it, I still feel all of the emotions vividly, just as if I was revisiting an old book from my childhood. I could relate so closely to that girl in the story. It seemed SO real.
I was sitting here wondering why I don't recall the beginning and end of my marriage as clearly. Maybe because I didn't blog everyday? Maybe because it was a gradual breaking down? Maybe I took it for granted?
Because it was a beautiful story too. I would imagine that any of you who have fallen in love and lost before have a beautiful story to tell... one that's hidden away or pushed down so that the emotions won't feel so real anymore.
Is it wrong that I sometimes want to get lost in a story, mine, yours or someone else's? I was feeling a little guilty about rereading about the intensity of love I felt for another man. Then again, it's not me anymore. It's who I was then. And it's nothing more than a story. MY take on something that occurred between me and one other person.
A beautiful, bittersweet, ultimately devastatingly heartbreaking tale but nothing but a story. Past. Gone. Finished.
Can you go back and visit one of yours?