Stranger than Fiction

Jane Eyre from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, my most favorite literary heroine. 

Many times, I wish to see myself as a protagonist in a novel, a vivacious heroine resembling a role model who would preoccupy the heart of the reader for weeks or years. Or a kick ass heroine who is really powerful, forceful, and effective that will transcend the test of time. A character whose life is bursting with action and makes a great deal of conversation. Someone realized and insightful and know the matters of the heart.

Anne Eliot from Persuasion by Jane Austen 

I spend hours, I spend days thinking about this only to realize, again and again that my life doesn’t resemble to any of these. I am nothing special. I am a boring, uninteresting person, whose uneventful life passes her by – fleeting, with nothing to amuse or vex her in the same degree that applies to these characters I would adore to resemble with.

Molly Gibson from Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell 

I didn’t see myself any better and it remained that way for a long time.

Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 

Isn’t it a vanity to adore several heroines when in fact you’re nothing near their smallest bit? When in fact you’ve never been near their achievements, you’ve never been in the places they’ve been, not in the same compelling lines, not in the same mysterious unraveling circumstances?

Margaret Hale from North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell 

I am not the least bit poetical. I am devoid of vivacity. I am the most un-poetical thing in existence. I have lost my identity in the recurring process of trying to find myself in one of the greatest heroines. I am constantly filling other body to be able to escape through them. I am devoid of credibility. I don’t even know myself entirely.

Josephine March from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott 

But to think that books let you experience all these, all these amicable and beautiful feelings, and let the reticent sensations of your heart surge into veracities, isn’t that what books are for?

One day I have thought about my life, the series of coincidences, and the revelations that broken my faith towards life and God. These series of flashes that recuperated in my mind have suddenly become to me a pivotal turning point. I remember that my life itself is a stream of synchronicities that I draw on constantly for my writing. I am my own hero and all these literary heroines are just echoes of me. These heroines are alive because of me, because I chose them to, because they are written to inspire me to do something with my life. I am the object of all of them. It is I who is the greatest heroine after all.

There soon after, I realized that if only we have the eyes, the heart or the openness of mind to see that our lives are the greatest stories of all.