When I tell my friends about something that happened or write about my experiences, I tend to add extra details or metaphors.
I do it without even realizing it.
For example, let’s say I meet someone with a perspective that’s completely different from mine. That’s the core of the story.
But when I write about it, I not only explain what happened but also start adding layers.
I might say his perspective comes from his upbringing or life experiences — even though I don’t actually know that. By doing this, I paint a picture of him that might not be true at all.
The problem? It changes the experience.
What I’m sharing isn’t exactly what I saw or felt, but a version I’ve created with my own perspective.
So when I write about an incident, I often wonder: “Is this what really happened? Is it real? Or am I just making it up?”
Another thing is, we don’t remember everything.
If I ask you about your college days from years ago, you’ll recall bits and pieces, not every moment.
You piece it together, and add some feelings that you think you had — but might not have.
I’m not sure about others. But as a writer, I find myself very aware of it.
When someone asks me how I felt during a certain moment, I hesitate, wondering if what I’m sharing is a story I’ve pieced together or a true experience.
Because that past experience almost feels like a dream.
