She had heard the story so many times, it was not just a story. She had mistaken it for her own.
The story was always told using the same words, and she liked it that way. It became her story. She made it her story.
She always listened carefully as it was told. On the outside she pretended to be disinterested, while the tuth of the matter is that she was jealous. On a subconscious level, her mind took over the characters. They were now her friends. And in turn, she became the heroine.
The story was a true story. There is no doubt about that. But it wasn't her true story. One could argue that she believed it was, and if you didn't know the original, you would never know. She learned the hard way though, eventually it all catches up to you. You can make someone's truth your own, but eventually it all catches up to you. Maybe this is the beginning of a fok tale.
The story was always told using the same words, and she liked it that way. It became her story. She made it her story.
She always listened carefully as it was told. On the outside she pretended to be disinterested, while the tuth of the matter is that she was jealous. On a subconscious level, her mind took over the characters. They were now her friends. And in turn, she became the heroine.
The story was a true story. There is no doubt about that. But it wasn't her true story. One could argue that she believed it was, and if you didn't know the original, you would never know. She learned the hard way though, eventually it all catches up to you. You can make someone's truth your own, but eventually it all catches up to you. Maybe this is the beginning of a fok tale.
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