The stories we tell

"Don't worry, you'll probably very soon adapt it in a movie i mean, i read it and you know i am not the reading type!!"

"I know, but..." i sight heavily and scratch my wrist

"No buts, its a great book you'll see !! Believe in your talent for once" Mel says from the other side of the line i know she is frustrated

I am sure she rolled her eyes while saying that , she must be fed up with my fears and my behavior.

"Sorry... i always bother you with my doubts."

I say looking the wooden floor of my flat

" what are friends for? Plus you are my sister , i am here for you" she says with her usual soft voice.

But i can't help it, it's the first time i let anyone but her read my stories and i was scared people wouldn't like it, its a rather sad story.

I scratch my wrist again and this time it hurts, it always itches when i am anxious and stressed which makes me more anxious , because it prevents me from thinking clearly, sometimes when i don't know how to continue or write sensitive parts in my stories it just doesn't help and everything just seems too noisy around me...

"You my dear, overthink too much, it doesn't matter who likes or doesn't like it, you write it for yourself first! It was never you intention to publish but you did and you are going to kill it" she was cheering me up now

I completely zoned and she knew it

"You are not objective, you are my sister! Of course you will love it , but you know people like love stories, with happy endings or adventure with love stories, maybe i should have modified the ten last chapters " i say seriously thinking about it, what if no one even read it. I feel so anxious and the damn wrist won't stop itching.

I consulted the internet but no one even made allusions to it, apart from my friends I haven't seen anything.

" but if you change it, you change the sense of what you wrote in there, which is not the message you were tryingto pass. People should know life is not always pink and happy endings depends on us not on the moon, or whatever ,only our choices count" she said in a very serious tone and she paused to let her words do its work in me then continued "there is a part of you in every character and every even in that book, anyone who knows you will find you in every corner of that book. You can't change what happened to you, you can't change that."

The only noise heard was her breathing from the other side of the line and the faint noise of a television, probably hers.

My own breath was held even my wrist stopped bitching.

I am over reacting as always... i know that, its only a week since the publication but i was still worried that no one will love it or even want to buy it, I myself didn't know if i could buy it. Okay now i am just being dramatic.

"I am just scared..." i barely heard my own voice but kept on "I... i don't think it was a good idea publishing it at all" now i feel my tears finally rolling on my cheeks.

"Sweetie everything will be alright, even if you are not best seller at the end at least you tried..." she was interrupted by someone, that should be her husband .

I felt a little bit jealous, seeing how marriage and family life suits her but on the other side i can't stand a boyfriend for more than a week or two, i feel uncomfortable that they invade my personal space and that i have to adjust to their needs or whatever. So at the end its better for me to be alone, for now maybe one day...

" hey are you still there?"

Damn I zoned out again

"Uhuh"

"Okay , I'll call you later and stop checking things on the internet love you." And she ended the call before i could utter a single word.

I look at my phone for a moment and i battle with myself to decide whether to check if there is anything new on the internet. I look at my screen and before i know it, i am typing the title of my book " This Time Again " . I was ready to click when Mel's voice came back in mind "believe in yourself ".

That was the problem, i don't have faith in my work, nor confidence nor anything, i wonder how i even got to the extent of publishing a book. I guess it was in those moment when you act without really thinking "you overthink too much" a voice spoke in my head.

Yes i know that .

Mel is right, i overthink everything, in every single aspect of my life, but thats how i was made or should i say life forced me. Every time i did careless things, it never ended well for me, never and i am not so willing to be hurt like I've been before. I know better than getting high hopes to only be disappointed at the end but i also know it's of no help , i am just putting a wall between me and reality

I stand completely forgetting my phone and walk toward the little table at the window , full of all papers and pens, they were not just papers, they were stories. Each of them full of my imagination, my dreams sometimes i wrote what i hoped will be my life some day . My eyes caught the source of all my stress, the book is standing there, polished and finished unlike the other ones still on papers, in note books and my laptop, still waiting to be completed or changed. I wonder if i will ever publish them and if i will feel this same stress every time i do.

I finally take it in my hands, to feel it and smell it and yes i smell books and a smile spreads, i did something real.

I look at the silhouette drawn on it, looking at the stars hoping that one day something will change and that these lights somehow give the answers to so many questions. Waiting for a miracle evertime every thing seems wrong.

I look at it for a while and for the first time since i submitted it, i open the pages till i reach the first chapter drawing in this story i wrote and remembering how it all started.

Why i wrote it in the first place...