They liked it! They really liked it!

Not too long ago I was at Six Flags. To keep myself from judging all the people, (something I have been working on for a while) when I found myself starting to do it I would just stop and wonder what their story was. What is the reasoning behind their circumstances? Why are they where they are, doing what they're doing? When you're thinking about their story, it's so much easier to relate to them and so much harder to judge them. I found myself making up things for everyone I passed. I became engrossed in my little game. So much so that my friends were wondering why I was hardly talking.
Yesterday I posted my status on Facebook as 'Tell me your story.' I don't know if I expected a lot of responses to that or not. Of course, you always want people to respond to your status, but it's kind of a loaded question. Someone instant messaged me, relaying a story, then asked me what mine was. It never even occurred to me to answer that question! I told them I didn't know, I would have to get back to them. It literally kept me up half of the night. What's my story? Does it start in my birthplace of Okinawa, Japan? Or is there a defining moment in my life that would make me who I am? Who am I, for that matter? That's a whole other issue! I wish I could start with a neat little "Once upon a time..." and finish with a clean "The end." I know my reasoning behind asking the question, and I still don't have an answer!
I came to the conclusion that it depends on the person. How you want to answer the question. Now I know my answer; it hit me like a ton of bricks and it happened just last week.
I started Composition I on Monday, and it was the first time I've ever had to write a paper and have complete creative freedom. There was kind of a prompt but I wasn't forced to be persuasive for the first time in my school career, I just had to tell whatever story I wanted that had to do with writing. Now, I enjoy writing. Journaling, poetry, whatever, but I don't think I've ever just written a short story. And oh, what a paper it was! I poured my heart into the paper and long story short she read it to the class and... they liked it, they really liked it! Okay, so not that big of a deal, but oh was it a big deal. I didn't realize until I was lying in bed trying to answer the question of my story, but that day really established (in my mind) me as a writer. Afterwards I just thought, 'Man, I have to write things for people to read more often. Maybe I am cut out to do this after all.' I knew I had a love of words and books but no one had ever written what I wrote. I feared (reoccuring theme) judgement. I didn't want them to hate it! I didn't want to suck. I knew in the back of my mind that I didn't, but a lot of times you just need confirmation, you know? That was my confirmation. Thank you, english class. Thank you, english teacher. Thank you, Jesus. That day, I think, will define what I do for the rest of my life.