I Am the Story: When the Dream Changed Without Telling Me

I once wrote on Facebook:
“I am the best storyteller in the world. I am the story. Watch me unfold.”

Only one person liked it.

At the time, I envisioned that declaration as the beginning of a fairytale arc. A rise to riches. To glory. To a life so extraordinary it would one day look like magic. I imagined myself becoming the woman who told her story from the top floor of a glass building, dressed in soft silks and sharper ambition.

But life?
Life told a different story.

It gave me disappointment.
Humbling.
Heartbreak.
Returning home when I swore I never would.
It gave me moments where I sat in silence not because I had nothing to say, but because I didn’t know if anyone would listen.

And yet… here I am.
Telling the story anyway.
Not the one I once hoped to live, but the one I actually survived.

It turns out, I was right in that old Facebook post.
I am the story.
But it didn’t unfold like I thought it would.

It unraveled.
It rewrote itself.
It revealed characters I thought I’d forgotten and truths I had buried.
It became messier than I planned, but far more meaningful than I ever could’ve imagined.

And now, as I hold I Have a 'Tell Someone' Moment in my hands, the book I wrote while life was still in motion, I understand that the one person who liked that post wasn’t wrong. Neither was I.

Because this, right here, is what unfolding looks like.

Not fireworks.
But a flame that refused to go out.

If you’re reading this and your dream doesn’t look the way it once did, I see you.
If life has edited your story without asking, I understand.
And if you’ve ever made a bold declaration, only to be met with silence, I hope you remember that some posts are not for likes.
Some are prophecies.

Keep unfolding.
Your story isn’t done yet.

With heart,
Miyelani