The story of my existence
I have a problem with this question: How do you describe yourself?
When I was a child I used to say “I’m tall, and green, and I have nine arms”, and so. Then, as a teenager, I would say “I’m a dreamer” or any pseudo philosophical answer to avoid talking about who I really was.
As an adult I became more critical, pragmatic. At job interviews I used to make perfect descriptions of myself. Descriptions so well constructed that they were sincere and could still get me the job.
But… I’m not happy with that. I write fantastic novels, my description of myself should be more like that one of my early years.
I can be an ant. An incredibly strong being, hard worker, excellent communicating… No, no… too small, I need something big… I am the moon. The silver shinny full moon. Unless I’m waining… The not-so-full moon filled with craters and… ok, not.
I am this short story. And I exist in what you read. I was born in the first letter; And now is time to die.
Short story created from the words: ant, write, moon.