There is a reason I write stories.
I write because, in life, I am not so bold.
I write for the pleasure of words unrestrained.
I write to feel fearless.
Even when my characters are tongue-tied, the words they manage to forge are intentional.
Even when my characters aren’t confident, I am.
I am their God.
I have their best intentions at heart.
I have a plan for them.
I control their reality.
I love them unconditionally.
I cry at their misfortunes.
I pray for their happy endings.
And when I pray, I pray to an author.
I ask that my God will be kind.
I pray to be the protagonist of my life.
Not to be character in someone else’s story.
Not to be killed in the second act for dramatic purposes.
I don’t want to be the comedic side-kick.
No, I want to be the star of my life.
I want it to be a classic.
I hope for an audience that laughs with me.
That stays with me.
And sometimes, I wish I knew what happened next.
I wish I knew if my words were created with intention.
I wish I was certain of the reaction they provoked.
That everything I said, and did, and lived was a set-up for everything I ever wanted.
I pray to my author for a happy ending.
And that when I recite these words I wrote for you.
That you will kiss me on cue.