I’ve played many roles in the story of my life.
I’ve been the child who pooped his pants.
I’ve been the teen caught for shoplifting.
I’ve been the guy who moved for a girl.
I’ve been the storyteller who wrote too little.
I’ve been the adult who nearly pooped his pants.
I’ve been the boyfriend who broke hearts.
I’ve been the salesperson who lost a deal.
I’ve been the neighbor who avoided neighbors.
I’ve been the friend who became a villain.
I’ve been the stranger who spoke strangely.
I’ve been the man who found faith.
I’ve been the son who rebelled.
I’ve been the brother who regrets.
I’ve been the husband who loves.
I’ve been the father who hopes.
In many scenes, I’ve performed poorly at these roles – or at least the characters I believed others expected me to be.
Since birth, I was told who I am.
A name was assigned.
Another name.
A number.
My character was cast.
A country was assigned.
A state.
A city.
My setting was set.
A threat was proposed.
A hot stove.
A stranger.
My antagonistic forces were staged.
A path was paved.
An education.
A job.
A mortgage.
My story was scripted.
What if different names had been assigned?
A different setting?
Different antagonists?
A different story?
Many of my recent performances continue to displease – and the assignments never seem to cease.
But maybe they can’t.
Because maybe the characters require names to play the game.
And maybe the setting isn’t a scene without exposition.
And maybe the antagonists aren’t faced without first meeting their monikers.
So maybe the story can’t be told without labels.
Yes, it seems names must be assigned throughout the narrative.
But these titles matter minimal when appointed by others – because that’s only the beginning.
What matters maximum is the purpose you impose until “The End.”
So which role will you choose to portray?
Which setting must you call on?
Which antagonists do you need to identify?
Whose story do you want to tell?