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Summary

The provided text is a reflective and poetic exploration of the self, questioning whether one is an angel who has risen or fallen, and emphasizing the power of personal narrative in shaping one's identity.

Abstract

The web content titled "The Myth of You" delves into the duality of human nature, suggesting that each individual's story can be seen as a myth with the potential for both heroism and villainy. It uses vivid imagery to illustrate the complexities of self-perception and the impact of culture on our personal narratives. The text challenges readers to consider their own mythology, questioning whether they see themselves as a figure of admiration or disdain. It emphasizes that the stories we tell about ourselves become the reality we live in, advocating for self-kindness and the crafting of uplifting personal myths.

Opinions

  • The author muses on the idea that personal identity is a narrative construct, influenced by both internal and external factors.
  • There is a recognition that everyone has the capacity to be both a hero and a villain in their own story, and that this duality is a natural part of life.
  • The text suggests that societal and cultural norms ("Culture frames the edges of our mirror") play a significant role in how individuals perceive themselves.
  • The author encourages readers to embrace positive self-narratives, as these can have a profound impact on one's sense of self-worth and overall well-being.
  • Acknowledgment is given to Emily Jennings for inspiring the piece with her story "You Exist but You Aren’t Real," indicating the interconnectedness of creative works and their ability to inspire further reflection and creation.
  • The author concludes with a call to action for self-compassion, urging individuals to be their own saviors rather than destroyers, implying that personal agency plays a crucial role in the shaping of one's identity and life story.

The Myth of You

Are you the angel that rose or fell?

Javier García

When creating the story of ourselves…

Are you a mystery or in misery? Your self’s history has come out, showing new teeth in the biting genes. The mirror image of what we see, much like leaves falling from trees, is just a part of the package. Angels fall; it’s temporary. All must know to descend and then decay. Thus I beg you, take me, if I may, to watch the comets hurling high above our heads …

Beds of ancient rivers dried in a plain, sights baking under a foreign sun; moons hidden for millennia in darkness. No wolves to howl, the dogs bark less here than on Earth. The noise cannot be canceled.

Culture frames the edges of our mirror. The glass was blown by cheery cave creatures, golden ornaments spun by sprites. It shows that anthropomorphic rows of trees would bow to you in their groves. A hero made in your image, a name carved in stone on a tomb that was sculpted like a throne.

Who should call out your name and applaud your deeds, heroic spaceman, courageous floral queen? The voyage was met, your myths have been set, and you’re a legend in the eyes of all circling the stars.

Approval and appraisal, though far and wide, might not make leaps in your heart. Maybe — I don’t know you — but maybe, your story is villainous; you are the antagonist, the vile. Stolen elixirs-turned-toxins in the chalices of life show reflections like in mirrors saved from deep caves. What appears is now a hag; decrepit beggar, insipid deceiver; now a shapeshifter choking on its tale.

The star you are destroys entire worlds, a dark drain that swallows galaxies. The mist you breathe like embers dripping from your snout burning up the footpaths left behind. The road ahead is already blazing. The woods cannot be saved. The creatures loyal to you have been maimed! It’s insane, yet no demon or jin could resist. What kind of beast does this?

Not a one. It is a myth.

Others told it, so you tell it. Some believe, but it’s no breeze to define the fire’s light; awesome beauty or hellish tendency to embellish things in its degrees. You are so tender, you are so great, but let’s get straight the stories that we tell. You can be hero or villain in this myth; the angel that rose or fell.

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A thanks to Emily Jennings and her story “You Exist but You Aren’t Real” for inspiring this poem/story. You do some really great writing!

Here’s a reminder to myself and to all to treat ourselves more kindly. Tell uplifting stories about ourselves, because these end up being the “myths” that we believe. We can be our own saviors, but we can also be our own destroyers. Let’s try for the former one, yeah?

☮️ & 💗

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Good And Evil
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