There are times when I feel like an impostor,
a copycat, repeating stories others have told.
Something wonderful will grab my attention
and I try to take it further, to put my own spin on it,
but I still wonder sometimes if it's really mine.

Sometimes I find myself repeating my own stories,
and I wonder if I've ever had an original thought.
Is my life so small that I have nothing new to say?

Or maybe it is my mind that's small
and the same old stories fit tightly in its corners,
the completed puzzle with no space for leftover pieces.
There's no room left for originality,
like trying to put 10 lbs of sand in the proverbial 5 lb bag.
I hope not. 

I like to think my mind is open to possibilities,
even those I cannot fully grasp. 
I've heard there are only 6 or 7 story lines,
that all stories, by all writers, spring from there,
so maybe it's not just me who feels this way.
Maybe we're all copycats,
only some of us have better handwriting.

Maybe we are the monsters that must be overcome.
Maybe we don't have a great quest to fulfill,
but the journey, with its little comedies and tragedies
is the greatest story ever told.
Maybe all we want is for someone to listen,
to acknowledge they have traveled the same roads
and felt the same feelings.
Maybe I am the copycat who tells your story
to prove that no matter how different we are,
we are really all the same.

~Elise Skidmore ©2024

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