Humans really like stories and sharing them. We, to each other, are just a bundle of stories. The stories we went through together, the stories that make our history, the stories that we share.
It is not too far to say that the fabric of humanity is stories.
Through stories, we’ll get compassion and understanding. But, it needs thinking. Not just hearing the stories. Our conscience to others is to reflect on their stories. To ingest their stories, to deliberately understand the stories and the storytellers. To give compassion to both of them.
The stories can be real, or it might not be. In defining what is and what is not real, I often come to the conclusion that this all is fiction.
But what good is to declare everything is fiction when it’s pretty much all we mean?
Social media has ushered us to another age of stories. We can become a global storyteller with a few strokes of our fingers. And we do. Through our writings, through our pictures, through anything that we post.
The stories became something else. What would be a sincere story of a moment in your life can become so much more. And we make them more. And sometimes we just realise that not everyone (especially ourselves) has that interesting of a story to share. We need to do things, define and determine what is interesting, and craft the delivery to make our story go.
We perceive ourselves, and others, from what we share on social media. It’s one step further, but also one step closer to what stories and sharing really means to us.
Thoughts are not stories. Thoughts are not real. Until it becomes a story. What is real is only what can be shared.
And humans can only hold on to what’s real to them.