April 28, 2017
By Grace Harvey
Our lives are full of stories.
Some are harder to tell than others, and that is something I’ve grown more comfortable with during my time with BCC. Putting words to an experience seems confining, in a way—you cut off the scraggly bits of a memory, and fit it into a box that attempts to convey something cohesive, with proper words denoting their proper connotations.
I often find myself pausing in the middle of a sentence, because for all the words in the English language, nothing seems to fit. No words seem to express the whole of an idea. How can you describe an emotion that throbs through you, constantly shifting and opaque, a feeling that seems to change every time you grasp for it? It reminds me a bit of the wave-particle duality of light: when you try to observe it, it seemingly changes its properties, in a constant frustrating refusal to be analyzed.
The stories we tell will never paint the whole picture, or erase the memories they stem from. But we are more than our stories; we are greater than the sum of our parts.