

There is a scene in Episode 3 of The Wife on Showmax that I do not think I will ever get over. At first, I did not understand why, but now I think I do. It speaks to a version of me I have not yet allowed myself to explore, a version I am too afraid to voice. So, I hide behind the words, “If I could do life again.”
If I could do life again, I think I would go to film school. Maybe study creative writing too. But more than anything, I think I want to learn how to build worlds out of dialogue. I want to create realities out of emotions, and even more, out of thoughts.
If I could do life again, I’d like to be surrounded by artists. People who believe in the power of storytelling, people like me, who know it is the only thing holding life, holding people together. I have this theory; love is just another form of storytelling. We talk so much about self love, but if that were enough, why do we still crave for someone to share life with? Why do we still long to experience love through the eyes of another? I think it is because, deep down, we all need a witness, someone to see our story, someone to remember.
There is a stillness I feel only when I am lost in a story. It is the loudest feeling I know and the most honest. My thoughts come to life. You should see the magic they create. But the story ends. It always ends, and I return to my reality. I hate that part. It leaves me feeling a little too sad, because no matter how real they feel, thoughts are just that, thoughts.
Maybe I will not know rest until I yield to this calling.
Until I stop running from the stories inside me.
The truth is, I do not know how.
I do not know how to let go and start again.
There is a fear that settles on my chest every time I try.
I am not even sure I can.
If I am being honest, I am still here because of shows like The Wife❤️. I have always turned to on screen storytelling as an escape. It has always had the power to pull me out of the dark, to immerse me so deeply that, for a while, all I can feel is safe, alive, and present.