What if she runs out of stories to tell?

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Keyla Acevedo-Hargis

Me, at age four, at a soccer game for a team I played with for one year. I haven’t played since.

She has spent her whole life telling stories.

Whether she told her stuffed penguin and monkey when she couldn’t fall asleep or to her mom when she got picked up from daycare, she has always had something to say. She never stopped telling stories, no matter if it was about an event that occurred in her day or a made-up tale of an adventure she had accompanied by her imaginary friends.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, the act of sharing her life with those around her was enticing–constantly having her crave for more. Since she was in the first grade, when her teacher did writing workshops every day, her adoration for telling stories has grown into a passion–a way of life.

She tried to find a way to share the stories she tells to more than just her family and more than just her friends. She wished that her life could be told to the world with the simplicity of clicking the smooth, black keys on her computer.

She writes, she writes, and she writes some more, but the day that words stop coming to mind to tell her stories is inching closer.”

It was then that she came across the Writing for Publication class on her course selection document in the eighth grade, as she was deciding on how her freshman year was going to pan out. She didn’t think much of it when she scribbled out Intro to Business and changed the course at the last minute. She didn’t think much about how that decision would greatly affect her in the near future.

Now, she could not possibly fathom what her life would be like without The Central Trend for her to share her stories with. When the time rolls around for her to write a column, her face lights up like a little kid who just got a hold of a new toy. She opens her laptop to the warm glare of the computer screen, and her fingers begin to race across the keyboard as she pours out everything that is on her mind onto the document in front of her.

She writes, she writes, and she writes some more. When she finishes typing the final word, she scrolls to the top and admires her hard work. She smiles in satisfaction, puts her story in the back end of The Central Trend, and goes to bed, giddy over the fact that the world can read her story, feel for her, and know her. Just as she is about to get a semi-decent night’s sleep, one question lurks over her head like ominous clouds of an impending storm:

What if she runs out of stories to tell?

She silently lies in her bed, as the inside of her head is screaming, panicking, and spiraling. She has never gone a day in her life without telling a story, no matter if it was out loud or on paper. She writes, she writes, and she writes some more, but the day that words stop coming to mind to tell her stories is inching closer second by second, day by day.

She cannot imagine how her life would pan out if she didn’t have a story to tell. What is the purpose of existing, the purpose of being if there are no stories? Who would she be without a tale to tell, a person to entertain, or a life lesson to teach?

Without her stories, she is nobody.