Her ink stands out on the pages of history.
Its colors and brilliance demand to be read.
But your pages will always be a mystery.
For you were too afraid to let your colors be anything but invisible.
I think we all like to imagine ourselves as the brilliant colors on the pages of history. At the least we aspire to reach this point. But the funny thing is that aspirations and dreams never made anybody stand out on the page. It takes the action of writing our stories painstakingly through trying new things and making mistakes and failing and attempting it all over again to be remembered.
I am not unlike everyone else in wishing to be the bold ink across the pages of history. But I am deathly afraid of failure. When I let this consume my actions, my ink becomes invisible. It blends in with the white, boring page of what everyone else is doing.
To be written on the pages of history, we have to write our own stories instead of letting society write our predictable endings. Dreams stay the fantasies of our imagination until we write them into action. We have to pick up our own pen and choose a different color, a different story of our lives, and take a chance on new things.
When we are afraid of failure, we become like everyone else, invisible in a way. Few people can say that they clearly stood out on the pages of history. And that wasn’t because they stood back and let their stories be written for them.