ARA // AN

Who am I? Who am I not? I’ve played with this introduction for quite some time and I realized that perhaps I’m not meant to be captured by any titles or labels because I don’t fit in any of them. I make my own definition, I guess. I say I’m a writer but I’m not the kind of writer you know. I say I’m a storyteller but not exactly what you’d expect. But one day this genius sparked within me, words poured into me, through me, and then when I was done I stepped back, I recognized my own reflection. The essence of my journey and myself:

I am made of stories, resilience, and strength. I am made of transformations. I am the result of endless obstacles and struggles, both grand and subtle ones. My path I forged. My heart I fought for. A wounded warrior, I am made of scars. My emotional world — a world as deep as the ocean, with unmatched passion and intensity, with overflowing love. Yet, out of trepidation I shut it down and made it an arid world: tasteless, boring, locked in the ravels of time.

I have been lost and I have found. I have been hurt and I have healed. I have died and continue to die a thousand more. Each time I strip away, I come closer to my essence. But that’s not the point, for in me you will always see imperfections.

Only stories I hope to collect, through trials and errors, triumphs and failures. Through every battle I come home with a treasure: more story under my belt. Stories are the heart of all my realization. All that I wish to offer. They are the motivation I need that has granted me persistence, despite being deeply aware that the path ahead feels unclear and arduous. There are mountains and rivers to cross. There are many more winters I see. Stories give me strength. “I’ll tell this story one day…” is a thought that has kept me going. As I know this journey is worth dedication and time. It is given to me is not for nothing. It’s for a purpose, even when the purpose is no more than a soul experiencing a human life. This is who I am. This is what I am made of. And now is the time to stop shrinking and start owning my design, and desires.

A story weaver, I am.