After 8 Months, I’ve Figured it Out

The Only Story Worth Sharing

And of course it happened, from the oddly comfortable aisle seat of the United aircraft. I was recalling the story of India’s frantic streets. Her frevalent heat. And of course, her heart wrenching soul. But with the impending dome of the return to my cold homeland, questions still loomed: of all that had happened, the millions of emotions, insights, and events, how did that reflect the person I am now? What story did I really have to give?

Reflecting on this, I remembered an event that happened a few weeks prior, in which I was showing a friend from back home pictures from a community I visited. One image she was particularly taken aback by. She said she had never seen such realness and depth in a photograph.

She could tell the residents were not hiding who they were. There was something raw about it.

Of all my swirling thoughts, that eventually melted into one, this remained; imperfection is beauty. The hidden secrets we hold are the ones that make us human. The relationships that follow no pattern teach us the most. The chaotic cities are the most thriving . The nights ending without a kiss leave the greatest sting. The wretched images of poverty reach our hearts the deepest. Our guilty pleasures reveal the truest reflections of ourselves.

It may not be the person we want to see; blemished skin, lies, deception, and tattered souls. But it is our raws selves, and it is really the only story worth telling.

Photo Credit: Abbey Seitz (Writer) & Hunter Dunbar