Written a long… long time ago. We found this in our drafts and after reading it, We couldn’t just throw it away. So… I decided to post it. This was back in 2012,
Last night, it seemed my sense of weariness had gone to lunch, leaving alive and attentive far into the hours of the morning before it returned late with excuses instead of getting to the task of putting me to sleep.
Not being able to sleep caused my thoughts of wonder as I drifted in my sea of thoughts. The waters were still tonight and that all for one hell of a brainstorm on everything and nothing at all. Some of the stories and scenes of valor and other were memories, resurfacing to remind me that my girlfriend was a great person even though she may not be as open as I am. It was fairly calm until I stumbled upon a question that had found it’s wave beside me.
“Do I have a problem?”
It was a simple question and the thought intrigued me like it would anyone else. Did I have a problem? But this question was too open-ended to dwell on, the waters began to irritate and it was becoming just to drift. So I accepted the question and indulged, going deeper into why I would question myself in that manner. And the question was surprisingly good and perplexing.
“As one who possesses a unique gift of creativity for storytelling, do you believe you perceive emotions and details differently from others? Do we consciously invoke our ability to view the world as a narrator to handle situations in better ways than our peers? Do our peer resent us for harboring such an ability?”
It was like I was standing on a stage with a microphone in my hand with a panel beneath me. It was a competition and it my turn to answer the great questions of my brain. I saw other versions of myself sitting behind me with a worried look on their face. The crowd of Winters had the same worried expression and I couldn’t tell whether or not I should get answer right or wrong. If there was even right or wrong answer.
The sophisticated me that sported a full white beard and a pair of steampunk styled rimless glasses shifted the frame while his eyes narrowed, looking at with me with a prescription that resembled magnifying glasses.
But how was I suppose to answer the question? On spot like this. Things like this required time to assess and reflect. To gather information to help my point of view when I answered. And as I thought about the answer, it all came to me.
I, as a writer, would like to believe I am closer to my emotions than the average person. I’m not saying to say I’m better than anyone, but as I write, I explore so many variables of expression and emotion. As a reader, I experience these various arrays of emotions almost on the same level that they do at times as I put yourself in their shoes and become the character and live their story through their eyes.
We don’t have the pleasure to only look at the world from a single perspective. We are the creators of the world that we want our readers to explore and though we choose the people who will tell the story through, we take in account that everyone in this story possesses a different view, just like life. We are ultimate, all of the personas and personalities of the story, each just as unique as the people meet in everyday life.
Whether not I use my ability to help in real life situations, I would I like to think I do. A lot. (Look at me sounding like a mutant with powers.) I believe because I put myself in thousands of situations and attempt to respond and react to those situations not as myself, but as another person who different beliefs and values, I believe I am very capable of dealing with people. Like purposely creating different personalities, different personas and because I adopt them as myself, I always will retain that way of thinking if that makes sense.
I’ve done it on multiple occasions. A person has asked a question and instead of allowing myself to answer the question, I have consciously or unconsciously sipped into one my characters to answer because they were better to equip at answering. I could relate to them and understand how they were feeling if I attempted to shift into their shoes.
To answer the last question, I would like to think so. Because I shift perspectives and views, it can come off as never sticking to one idea or concept. Being malleable has its merits but it also has its falls. One would think I don’t know how to stand my ground if I always trying to understand someone and their actions. Where would I draw the line?
I found myself looking out to my peers, the different versions of myself. No response. They wore no expressions and that made me anxious. I wanted them to say something. Anything that would make this easier, but all I got was silence.
I rolled over and pulled my blanket it over me, eyes opening to star at the wall. They ached, throbbing lightly. All I wanted to do was sleep…