The ASMR Storyteller - Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Cried
In this chapter...
At what cost would you abandon your pain?
What if your grief becomes greater than your ability to bear it?
What part of yourself would you sacrifice?
When I was a young man, I met the devil
And they came to me as a most welcomed guest
When I was young, I became old quicker than I should have
As the ASMR Storyteller, I explore the tragic beauty of the world and reflect upon moments of my life.
I speak softly, I do not whisper. They are accompanied by a soft score of piano, violin and a delicate hum designed to elicit a sense of calm and security. I also include slight visuals, which enter our memories before words can. They are intentionally blurry. This is to give it a distant and dreamlike recollection, as when searching our memories, unable to grab on to details. Only its emotional truth permeates. Being transported back to these moments in time, I re-inhabit these precious moments. These are the songs of my life.
There are stories that separate us. Stories that unite us. Those we carry with us, and some we leave behind. Stories that define us. And the way we tell them changes, as do we. Its how we come to understand the world. But they do not belong to us. I hold onto them as they fade from memory, and in time, will be lost forever. Its a soft melancholy, such a sweet sorrow.
We are in such a hurry to get nowhere in particular, we often forget to slow the pace of things. We often forget that we are profound. So close your eyes, breathe, forget the world around you... and stay a while.